


Under Cold Blue Stars

by NellieOleson



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Timeline, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:49:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NellieOleson/pseuds/NellieOleson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Continuum timeline story. Because we all know that Sam and Jack can't exist in the same universe without meeting each other. Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

August, 1994

 

Jack watched Charlie race across the field in the bright summer sun, his shadow stretched out behind him. He was growing up so fast, tall for his age and looking more like Jack every day. Sara got a gradual, day by day transformation, but Charlie grew in leaps and bounds for Jack. He was constantly readjusting his mental image, adding an inch, lengthening the hair, little things that kept him awake at night wondering how much he was missing. He wished he could say it had been different before the divorce, but he’d been leap-frogging through Charlie’s life since the beginning.

He checked his watch while Charlie flew over the grass with his arms out wide--a one-boy dogfight. He’d been doing everything he could to steer Charlie’s interests away from the military, but Charlie loved planes. Maybe it was genetic. Jack had wanted to fly for as long as he could remember. His own parents had encouraged it, seeing it as a way to pay for a college education they couldn’t afford. Sometimes Jack wondered if he would have been better off following the same path as his parents. Safe in his small town bubble to live and die simply, uneventfully.

There was a little girl hovering around the edges of the manicured green space, watching Charlie with a frown that looked out of place on her tiny features. Charlie was too involved in his mock battle to notice her, so Jack noticed for both of them. Charlie jumped and rolled across the grass, struck down by the girl’s glare or enemy fire. Airplane Charlie recovered quickly, up and flying again as soon as he had his feet back on the ground. If only it were that easy.

Jack stepped out from the small wedge of shade next to the dugout. He looked around, trying to figure out who the serious girl belonged to. There was one lonely kid on the swings, a couple of toddlers digging in the sand, and a pair of adults between them. Everyone was trying to squeeze in one last vacation before the new school year started. Half-day kindergarten had been one big party of colors, letters, and numbers. First grade was serious business, and Charlie had confessed to being nervous about it over a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

He found her person standing in the bullpen, a tall woman leaning against the fence with one hand shading her eyes. The sun caught her hair, turning it the same pale blonde as the girl’s. Jack watched her for a moment before turning back to the field. Charlie was racing down the third base line with his arms almost straight back. The girl was still standing in the outfield, and Charlie’s path was taking him directly to her. An inevitable collision of two disparate children that would shift the path of Jack’s life.

With a small shake of her head that made her look older than Jack felt, the little girl stepped in front of Charlie and stopped him mid-flight. They were too far away to hear what she was saying, but her body language was clear: Charlie was doing everything wrong. She corrected the angle of his wings and pulled his fingers together, nodding approval when he got it just right.

Charlie tested the new configuration, turning tight corners and spinning around second base, leaving contrails of dust in his wake. The girl had a pained look on her face, and Jack laughed. She stopped Charlie again and put her own arms out, making smooth, banked turns that he imitated behind her.

Jack was too busy watching Charlie learn how to fly to notice when the woman started walking his direction. She was crossing home plate by the time he saw her, growing taller and younger the closer she got. He pegged her as early twenties but she might have been older. Jack was at the age where everything from twenty to thirty looked the same; Charlie wasn’t the only one getting old too fast.

“Hi,” she said. She smiled at him --a polite smile, one that Jack had seen a lot while out with Charlie. A ‘please don’t turn out to be creepy’ smile.

“Hey,” Jack said back. Making small talk with other parents wasn’t something he had a lot of practice with.

She seemed content with ‘hey’, and they both went back to watching the kids. They were far out in right field now, practicing their landings as far as he could tell. Apparently there was something wrong with Charlie’s landing procedure. He took off and landed several times while the girl made corrections.

The woman looked sideways at him. “Sorry,” she said. “Emily can be a bit of a control freak.”

Jack thought she sounded more proud than apologetic. “I see that,” he said. “How old is she?” It was a popular parent question. People liked to talk about their kids, especially when the age of their kids was the only thing they were likely to have in common.

She turned toward him, clearly pleased with the subject. Her eyes were wide and blue, full of a youthful enthusiasm he didn’t often see in adults. It made him feel bitter and jaded, like he’d wasted his life. He was glad when she turned back to look at the kids and he only had to deal with her profile.

“She’ll be five next month,” she said.

Five was a good age. Old enough to be a little independant, but not past the point where they were easy to entertain. He’d been home a lot when Charlie was five. His marriage had fallen apart by then--and so had he, really-but it had been a good year for him and Charlie.

“She looks just like you,” he said.

She looked at him sharply, like he’d overstepped some boundary. Jack admired her unwillingness to put up with creepy advances from strange men at the park, but he was well past that point in his life. He’d just as soon be alone as try to pick up random women while out with his kid. And it was true, the little girl was just a smaller, more serious version of the woman standing next to him.

He didn’t add anything stupid to his observation, and she went back to watching the kids, shaking her head just like the girl had. “I’m not sure how that happened,” she said. “She’s my niece.”

Genetics were a strange thing. Charlie kind of looked like Jack had made him all by himself.

“Her parents in the Air Force?” he asked, mostly because they’d used up the good conversation starters, but they were close to base, and her corrections had all been spot on. She knew her planes.

“No,” she said. “Much to my father’s eternal disappointment.”

“Ah.” Jack looked at her more closely, the way she stood, the metal chain barely visible under her collar. He was usually better at spotting them, at least the men. His corner of the Air Force was still off limits to women, and he didn’t get to interact with many female officers. “Are you at the Academy?”

“I was.”

“Me too.” Jack did the math in his head and hoped the next twenty years of his life would pass more slowly. “A long, long time ago.”

She seemed amused by his explanation and not the slightest bit interested in anything else regarding his career. “I’m finishing up my PhD at Boulder,” she said. “I’ll probably be back there when I’m done.”

It was a rare thing for the Air Force to send someone off for more schooling. She must have done extremely well at the Academy.

Jack held out his hand, and she took it without hesitation. “Jack O’Neill,” he said. He should have given her a rank to go along with his name but didn’t.

She shook his hand confidently, almost cocky about it in a way Jack didn’t understand. “Sam,” she said. “Sam Carter.”

He was about to ask her what she was studying when the kids came rushing into their space. Charlie was flying straight and true. Emily had turned him into a competent wingman.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, can we get ice cream? Please, please, please!” Charlie had great faith in the power of asking for things in triplicate. It was something Jack was hoping he’d outgrow soon.

Sam’s niece took a less repetitive but slightly more manipulative approach. “Aunt Sam,” she said, “it’s very sunny. We need ice cream so we don’t get overhotted.”

She had a point. The dust from the infield had found its way into every sweaty crevasse on Charlie’s face, and his cheeks were bright pink. A little ice cream might be in order. Jack waited for Sam to answer. He didn’t want to get the little girl’s hopes up. If she said no, he’d just take Charlie on his own.

“We should definitely get some ice cream,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t want you to melt.” She tugged on the girl’s braid and smiled at her. A real smile, not the polite version she’d offered him. She had a great smile, and Jack wished he knew her well enough to get her to smile at him like that.

The Dairy Queen across the street was deserted -a preview of the months to come- but the ice cream was plentiful. They sat outside under the bright red umbrella and listened to the sugar-induced chatter of the kids. Charlie and Emily more than made up for the lack of conversation on the adult end of the well worn table.

Jack had never been much of a conversationalist, but Charlie seemed to have a real knack for small talk. He was reassuring Emily that kindergarten wasn’t so bad except for when they had to keep learning letters that he already knew. Charlie complained to Emily for a good five minutes about it, and Jack smiled. He hadn’t been aware that it had been such a burden for him.

“I have a new baby brother,” said Emily. “He doesn’t have a name.”

Sam shrugged her shoulders when Jack gave her a questioning look. “I don’t know,” she said. “My little brother and his wife like to live with their kids for awhile before naming them. Emily was three weeks old before we knew what to call her.”

“Charlie was easy. He was born with a name tag.” It was a dumb joke, but she laughed anyway.

The baby with no name was going to be hard to top, but Charlie took a shot at it. “My daddy flies airplanes,” he said like he was announcing that his dad was Batman. Jack stared at his hands. Flying planes was something he didn’t get to do much these days.

Sam’s niece nodded politely before leaning across the table like she was sharing the world’s biggest secret. “My aunt Sam is going to fly spaceships,” she said.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Sam. “Spaceships? I wasn’t aware the Air Force had those.”

Sam waved her ice cream cone at him and smiled the good smile again. It lit up her whole face. “Clearly, something was lost in the translation,” she said. “Space shuttles. Spaceships. It’s almost the same.”

“You’re a pilot?”

She nodded like it was no big deal. Like every new bit of information about herself wasn’t a life goal someone else was missing out on because she was hoarding them all. Pilot and PhD, she was really going all out.

“I flew in the Gulf,” she said. “F16s. My real goal is NASA. Gotta fly jets before they’ll let you fly a shuttle.” They’ll let you go along for the ride though. Jack knew that much. It was like she’d never even considered that option.

Jack had been too old to get caught up in the astronaut fantasy when the space program was in its prime, but too young to be considered for it as an adult. By the time his age and interest intersected at the right spot, his career had taken him in a less desirable direction. A direction he didn’t want to talk about. He kept the conversation pointed toward space.

“Charlie and I have tried to spot Mir a couple of times,” he said. “It’s never there when we are.”

“From the observatory?”

“No. I have a telescope on my roof.” It seemed stupid now that he hadn’t taken Charlie to use the big telescope at the Academy. But they’d had some good times up on the roof.

“Nice. I have to drag mine out of the garage when I’m home.”

Jack had the deck on the roof built before buying his telescope to avoid that very thing. His free time and Charlie’s attention span were too limited to squander on setting up the telescope every time they wanted to use it.

“That gets old quick,” he said. He peeked at his watch and felt like Cinderella at the Ball. “And my time is up.”

Jack took a good look at the sticky, dirty mess that used to be his kid. As far as he was concerned, it was how kids should look at the end of every long summer day. “I have to get him back to his mother by five. She’s going to be thrilled that I fed him ice cream before dinner.”

She looked at his hand, and Jack wasn’t sure if it was just for show or if she really hadn’t noticed his lack of wedding band until that moment. “Divorced?”

“Yeah.” Jack adjusted his sunglasses, trying to decide how much he wanted to talk about the subject. It was too late for not at all. It wasn’t even a good story. Their divorce had been amicable enough. Jack had still been detached, the anger still working its way to the surface like an air bubble through the thickened layers of his repressed emotions.

He told her the only part of the truth that mattered. “Turns out my job isn’t all that compatible with marriage.”

“The military is hard on families,” said Sam. Jack wondered if she was speaking from experience, but she didn’t elaborate. Maybe it was a subject neither of them wanted to wallow in.

Sam stood up and added her tray to the little stack on top of the trash can. “And ice cream is frozen calcium,” she said like it was an indisputable fact. “It’s practically health food.”

“Do you want to come along and explain that?”

“Sure.”

“I was kidding.”

She looked at him like he’d just told her that two plus two equals four. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

They waited by the trash can until the kids were finished saying their goodbyes. Jack thought they would walk back to the park together, but Sam took Emily’s hand and turned the opposite direction.

“We walked here,” she said. “My parents live a couple of blocks down.”

Jack started to feel like he’d wasted his time on the setting up, and wished he’d spent more time looking through the scope. He was sure he would have had more interesting things to talk about on the way back to the park.

Watching her go the other way felt like a missed opportunity.

“Well,” he said. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “It was nice meeting you, Jack O’Neill.”


	2. Chapter 2

March 1995

 

The Ab Roller plus was going to revolutionize his workout routine, save him time, and help to isolate those hard to reach muscles. All without causing debilitating neck pain. Jack wondered if it would make coffee and change the oil in his truck too. If he ordered now, he supposed he could find out. 

He sighed into the empty room and scrubbed his face with his hands. Even with the television blaring, the house felt too quiet. It was like that when he came off a long mission where he’d been living, eating, and sleeping with too many other people. It would take him a few days to adjust to being alone with nothing but his thoughts.

He hit the power button on the remote and tossed it into the corner of the couch where it would be the last place he’d look for it later. Sometimes he missed the days when his remote was tethered to the television. Wire-free wasn’t always the best option.

His old running shoes were sitting by the back door and he slipped them on before stepping out onto the deck. It was a clear night, still cold but with a promise of warmer weather just around the corner --a good night for messing with the telescope. He considered doing just that but didn’t think he could stand the oppressive silence of his solitude. His watch confirmed that it was too late to be heading out, but not too late to actually be out. He ignored the watch and went back inside for his keys and jacket, neither of which tried to dissuade him from leaving the house.

His shitty mood and the late hour limited his options to nothing good, late night diners with too many chipper waitresses, seedy massage parlors, and a slew of other questionable business that stayed open past the hours where anything good happened. He settled for a local bar that was more of a last resort than an option. It was a popular place, too close to the Academy, and full of idealistic cadets. He supposed he was like them once, but a billion grains of Iraqi sand had scoured that idealism right off of him. 

Tuesday nights weren’t worth celebrating, and the bar was less crowded than he’d expected. The cadets were still there, loud and boisterous, but in smaller numbers. Jack moved through the light crowd easily and made his way to the bar. He found a seat at the end, tucked in the corner by the emergency exit. A perfect spot with his back to the wall and a good view of the room.

The booths running along the wall opposite the bar were full, but sitting at the bar had turned into an old person’s pastime. Jack’s only company was a handful of older men with haunted eyes who looked like they only wanted human interaction in the abstract. That suited him just fine. The last thing he wanted was to get stuck sitting next to a chatty stranger.

There was a room in the back with a couple of pool tables and the world’s oldest pinball machine. Jack could only see half of it from his corner. He watched the game happening on the table he could see until a small cluster of people who didn’t look old enough to drink moved out of the center of the room, and he found something better to look at.

He watched her from his corner, wondering if she’d even remember him. It’s been almost seven months. Her hair was shorter than it had been when he first met her, and she’s more attractive than he remembered. She was surrounded by papers and books and disinterested in the people around her. It made her a magnet for attention she didn’t want. Two different men approached her while he watched. The first one left quickly, but the second was more persistent, looming over the table and crowding into her space. Jack set his beer down and tapped his fingers on the scarred oak bar.

The man finally walked off, joining a few other guys huddled around the far end of the bar. Jack watched him until he was satisfied the man was going to stay put. The woman at the table sat up straighter and pulled her shoulders back like she’d been hunched over for too long. Jack wondered how many hours she’d been sitting there.

The bartender leaned against the inside corner like they were old friends. “I wouldn’t bother with that one, buddy,” he said. “She’s been turning guys away all night.”

Jack didn’t like that he’d been so obviously staring at her, and he liked that the guy had commented on it even less. He stood up, not sure of his intentions until he grabbed his beer and stepped away from the bar. “I’ll take my chances.”

He didn’t get very far before her eyes tipped up and she stared at him. Jack realized she’d been keeping an eye out for unwanted company all along. He watched her thoughts play across her face until they settled on recognition. Her smile looked a little too relieved, but she waved him over, and he slid into the booth feeling like there were a lot of jealous eyes watching him.

“Jack O’Neill,” she said like remembering his name was an important test question. He wished he knew if he’d made that much of an impression on her or if she just had a knack for remembering names. Jack was terrible with names, but he remembered hers. “How have you been?”

He’d been stuck in Guantanamo for three months, sitting on his ass and waiting for the word to move into Haiti. She probably didn’t want to hear about that anymore than he wanted to talk about it. “Busy,” he said instead. “I’ve been busy.”

She gestured at the table top. “Me too. How’s Charlie?”

“Good,” he said, trying to recall her niece's name. She was just ‘airplane girl’ in his head.

“Emily still talks about him.”

Emily. That was her name. “And how is your little Napoleon niece?”

Sam laughed, and one of the guys she’d chased off earlier gave her a dark look. Jack stared at him until he looked away. If Sam noticed the exchange, she didn’t mention it.

“She’s been trying to boss the baby around.”

“Still just baby?”

“No, they named him Joseph.”

“I had an uncle named Joe,” said Jack. “Everybody called him Butch. I never understood that.” He’d asked his mother about it when he was young, but she didn’t know either. He’d never thought to ask his father who might have been able to give him an answer. He hadn’t been old enough to understand that aunts and uncles were attached to one parent or the other. By the time he’d realized that his uncle Butch was his father’s brother, he’d just learned to accept the name.

“That is weird.”

Weird like the conversation they were having. Jack wasn’t sure why he’d brought up his uncle’s nickname. He fished around in his head for something better but came up short. “You always go by Sam?” he asked.

“Since I was born,” she said. “My dad was convinced I was going to be a boy.” Her nose scrunched up, and she shook her head. “Samantha sounds odd to me now.”

Jack knew the feeling. If someone called him Jonathan, he’d probably look around to see who they were talking to. He poked at the large pile of books and notes on the table. “Odd place to do homework.”

“I’m staying with my parents over spring break,” she said. “Believe it or not, this place is more relaxing.” She closed her book, leaned back against the padded booth, and put her feet on the bench next to his legs. “I’m working on my dissertation.” 

“And then you will be a doctor of--?”

“Astrophysics,” she said. “Theoretical. With an engineering degree on the side, because I’m a glutton for punishment.”

Jack nodded and tried to look smart enough to understand a small percentage of the cool stuff she probably knew. “Sounds impressive,” he said, because it did.

She lowered her eyes and drew a line in the small puddle under a glass that looked like it had contained ice water when it arrived. “Impressive and tedious,” she said. “I’m glad you showed up. I could use a break.”

Jack wasn’t sure how much of a distraction he would be. He’d been in kind of a shitty mood when he walked into the place, and even on his best days, he wasn’t very interesting. His mood had definitely improved, but he still didn’t think he had much entertainment value. 

There was a small group gathered around the pinball machine, but one of the pool tables was empty. “Want to play pool?” he asked. “It’s physics. Sort of.”

Jack was sure she was going to say yes right up until the moment she didn’t. “I don’t want to embarrass you,” she said. She held his gaze with wide, apologetic eyes and tapped her pencil against the table. It was a fussy gesture, almost nervous, and it didn’t suit her.

He wondered for a moment if she was just trying to get rid of him. He didn’t want be pushy about it. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty table, and Jack decided she’d said exactly what she meant. It wasn’t false bravado on her part either. Jack had learned to spot the difference early in his career. She really was trying to spare him. His ego wasn’t that fragile; he’d spent a lot of years getting his ass kicked on a pool table by his uncle. The same one they called Butch for no apparent reason.

“I think I can take it,” he told her.

She thought about it for a long moment, chewing on the inside of her lip and staring at him like she was trying to read his intentions. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll rack.” The way she said it gave Jack the impression it was the only favor she’d be doing him.

“Do you want a beer?” he asked.

“Are you trying to dull my senses so you can win?”

“Yes?”

She looked down at her notes like she knew she was about to betray them, leave them for something better. “Yeah. I think a beer would be great right about now.” She slid out of the booth, and Jack followed her. “Maybe it will make the game last longer,” she said without a trace of humor. Jack handed her two quarters and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

The bartender gave him an approving look when he ordered two beers, and Jack wanted to punch him. Whatever look he gave in return kept the guy from opening his mouth. Jack tossed a ten dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait around for his change.

Sam had the table set up by the time he got back and was rolling sticks across the slate trying to find the least warped one. It was probably a lost cause. He sat the bottles on a nearby table and wiped the condensation off his hands. Sam seemed to have settled on a stick and was chalking the tip.

“Find a good one?” he asked.

She shrugged and handed him the stick. “I found a least bad one, but only one. We’ll have to share.” 

“That’s fine.”

Jack had a pretty good break and he was playing to win. She watched every shot, silently judging his performance, nodding in approval when he picked off three high balls. He made the last shot but left the cue ball in a bad position. His bank shot has never been consistent and he missed the twelve completely.

“You should have shot that last one high,” she said. Jack saw little airplane girl correcting Charlie in her face.

Jack gave her the almost-straight stick and picked up his beer. “You should have told me that before I shot it low.”

“Most people don’t like that.”

Yeah, he was well aware of that. He could only imagine what her experiences had been like. A smart, pretty girl surrounded by a bunch of egotistical alpha males. “I’m not most people,” he told her. “I’ll take all the good advice I can get.”

It was the right answer and he could see her relax a bit. Jack thought she might like him. She put chalk on the stick and proceeded to run the table on him anyway. She didn’t like him enough to let him win. Or maybe she liked him enough to be herself. It was too early to tell. 

“Well, that was fast,” he said when the eight ball rolled into the corner pocket.

“I warned you.”

She hung the cue stick back on the rack like they were finished, and Jack panicked. “You’re not going to give me a chance to redeem myself?”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Unless I’m boring you.”

“You’re actually not bad,” she said. Jack hoped they were talking about more than his pool game.

“You got that from my three whole shots?”

“I have a good eye for these things,” she said. Once more, he found himself trying to decide if she was talking about more than the pool game. She pulled the stick back out and gestured at the table. “Rack ‘em up.”

He dug two more quarters out of his pocket and stuck them in the coin slot. The balls clattered through the inner workings of the table before rolling into the ball return. Sam leaned her hip against the table while Jack racked the balls, and he found it mildly distracting. She was gorgeous in a casual sort of way. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, and he was starting to think she’d been on her way to bed and accidentally ended up in this bar, because the well worn sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt she was wearing looked a lot like his pajamas.

“It’s your break,” he told her when she tried to hand him the stick.

“You should break,” she said. 

Sam smiled at him, shrugging off the apology in her eyes. Jack liked the slightly defiant look that replaced it. He liked it quite a bit. It was amazing how expressive her eyes were. She was probably a horrible poker player. 

Jack took the stick from her when she held it out, because she was right, there was no way he’d get a shot in if he let her break. Hell, she’d probably sink the damn eight ball. 

The second game was better, but only relatively. Jack got a second chance when she missed a long shot along the rail, but he wasn’t good enough to do much with it. She didn’t miss again and made a point to bank the eight ball just to show off. 

A couple of guys made some loud, uncharitable comments regarding Jack’s manhood after she beat him three games in a row. Twenty-years-ago Jack might have beat them upside the head with a pool cue. Present-day Jack was content to let the fact that Sam hadn’t chased him off stand as testimony for his manhood.

Sam glared into the crowd, and Jack was concerned that _she_ was going to go beat someone with the pool cue. He was relieved when she returned the stick to the rack instead. She turned around, still looking a bit dangerous, and backed him into the table with a hand on his chest. She was close enough that she blocked out everything else, exponentially improving his view. Her eyes were serious and playful all at once. He wasn’t sure how she pulled that off.

“Play along,” she said into the space by his neck.

She didn’t give him any time to process that before she leaned in and kissed him. It was a cautious, recon mission of a kiss, restrained and exploratory. She pulled back and looked at his lips like they’d done something unexpected. Jack was more prepared when she shifted closer to him and did it again.

He did his best to remember that he was just ‘playing along’ when she bit his bottom lip and moved her hand to the back of his neck, where his hair was getting too long. His own hands were hanging stupidly at his sides, and he didn’t think they were doing a very good job at ‘playing along’.

Someone yelled ‘get a room’, and she shifted away from him, smiling like she’d made her point and leaving Jack feeling like his manhood was firmly intact, thank you very much.

“Huh,” she said mostly to herself. Jack couldn’t think of a reply to that so he let her lead him back to the booth in silence.

“Sorry about that,” she said when they were both safely seated. “It’s just- Those guys are assholes.”

Jack looked at ‘those guys’. They were assholes. “I know,” he said.

“And you don’t seem to be.”

“Thanks.” Jack had never been so glad to be considered not an asshole, and he was the type of person that spent a fair amount of time trying to convince other people that he was, in fact, an asshole. It kept people out of his bubble.

Sam started fiddling with her pencil, and Jack tried to think of something to keep her around. “Do you want to go someplace else?” he asked. “Someplace with fewer assholes.” He didn’t actually know if such a place existed at this hour, because he hadn’t been able to think of one when he’d left his house. He just found himself reluctant to let her go.

“I really need to get home and finish this.”

“Right,” he said. “Education is important.” 

Jack loitered around her booth while she gathered her things. She had a lot of books, and he grabbed half of them so he would have an excuse to walk her out. It was a transparent move, but she didn’t seem to mind. She thanked him and slid her notebooks into a backpack that looked like it was meant for day trips in the back country, full of carabiners and bungee straps. 

He followed her through the parking lot to her car. It looked too old to be reliable and too sleek to be American. Jack wasn’t a car guy, and he wouldn’t have been able to pick hers out of a lineup. It didn’t even have much of a color, just a dull gray coating that might have been primer. 

Sam took the books out of his hands and dumped them in the trunk. Jack kicked at a piece of gravel and stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to leave and wanting her to stay. She leaned against the rear quarter panel like she was stalling too.

“Can I get a rain check?” she asked. “For ‘someplace else’?”

Jack felt something loosen in his chest at the thought of seeing her again. An excitement he hadn’t felt in far too long. He hadn’t been all that interested in getting to know another human being since Iraq, and didn’t want to let this one go easily. There was something about her he found appealing, aside from her looks. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said, trying for a tone somewhere between overly eager, and indifferent.

Sam took a notebook out of her backpack and wrote down her number. “This is my apartment at school. If my roommate answers, just leave a message.” She tore the page out and moved to hand it to him, then pulled back. Jack thought she’d changed her mind, but she just added another number.

“If she tells you I’m home for the weekend, call this one,” she said while she wrote. “It’s my home number.”

Her handwriting was neat and tiny, the telltale sign of someone who spent a lot of time working with complicated equations. Jack folded the paper and ran his finger over the edge before sticking it in his wallet. It had been a long time since a woman had given him her number. He wasn’t sure he was ready to repeat that stage of life again.

“I’m glad I came out tonight,” he said.

“Me too. I don’t get out much. With school and all.” Her cheeks had gone slightly pink and he wanted to tell her that ‘getting out’ wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“Must be fate,” he said. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine... Or maybe he’d walked into hers. Something. It was a stupid thing to say and not for the first time, Jack wished he had a better filter. Sometimes he regretted things while they were still falling out of his mouth.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It felt forward and impulsive, neither of which were words that fit his personality. He could see the quaintness of the gesture in her expression. It made him feel old again, but she smiled, and maybe quaint wasn’t so bad after all.

She ran her fingers down his arm, stopping at his elbow. “Call me,” she said. It felt like an order, a little insight into the Air Force officer that had been pushed aside to make room for the student. 

She closed the trunk and slipped into the driver’s seat. Jack watched her drive away until her tail lights faded into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

April, 1995

 

It was a week and a half before he saw her again, better than seven months, but still longer than he would have liked.

The paper with her number sat next to the phone on his nightstand, and he unfolded it several times on Wednesday, staring at the numbers until they were committed to memory. It wasn’t until Thursday night that he worked up the courage to call, but his courage was wasted on her answering machine. He left his name and number after the pre-recorded greeting and felt like he was passing notes in study hall.

Friday morning had him on a plane to Nellis for a weeklong trip to Green Flag to fill in for a cadre member with a broken leg. It wasn’t a bad trip considering how much he hated training exercises and all their false enthusiasm and lies about no one getting left behind. He consoled himself with the fact that he didn’t have to kill anyone for real.

There was a single, four day old message on his machine when he got back. It was one more message than he usually returned to. His home phone number was something he guarded with an irrational intensity.

“Hi,” Sam said, sounding as uncomfortable with the message-leaving process as he always felt. He listened to her rapidly delivered sentences with a smile. “This is Sam. Returning your call. I’ll be in town this weekend. Call me back. Bye.”

He tried her school number first. It was late in the afternoon, but he was hoping she’d still be there and he wouldn’t have to call her parents’ house. Her roommate answered, which was almost as bad, and let him know that he’d missed Sam by about an hour.

Jack used up another hour taking a shower and unpacking his gear before he called her house. She picked up on the first ring, and Jack was glad he didn’t have to talk to one of her parents.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s Jack.”

“Well, hello, Jack.” She sounded oddly excited, like someone had just shown up on her doorstep with a giant, cardboard check. “You must be calling for Sam,” she said. “This is her mother, Elizabeth.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” she said. “It happens a lot.” Jack had no trouble believing that. He would have kept talking to her if she hadn’t said anything. “Hold on.” She didn’t bother covering the handset before yelling, “Sam! There’s a boy on the phone for you.”

There was a scuffle at the other end of the line, and Jack could hear Sam talking to her mom. It sounded like she was having a conversation with herself, and he could only tell them apart from the context.

“Who’s Jack? He sounds cute.”

“Seriously, mom. I’m twenty-six years old. You need to stop.”

There was a long pause and the sound of a door closing. “Sorry about that,” said Sam before yelling, “My mother is very nosy.”

“That’s fine,” he said, because what else could he do? He couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t act like a father to Charlie, no matter how old he was.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to call me back.”

“I was in Nevada.” Jack walked into the kitchen for a beer. Nevada always made him feel dehydrated, no matter how much water he drank. He had to squeeze the phone against his shoulder to use the bottle opener. “Green Flag.”

“I haven’t done that one yet.”

Jack wasn’t surprised by that. She was too young to have done much more than head straight to the Gulf after flight school. “I’m sure you’ll get there eventually,” he told her.

“Not if I can help it,” she said.

“Oh, right. Well then, I’m sure space training will be more fun.”

“Yeah,” she said. She went quiet for a minute. He could almost hear her winding the phone cord around her finger even though her phone was likely as cord-free as his own. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?” she asked. “I thought I could cash in that rain check.”

“I have Charlie tonight and tomorrow,” he said. He wanted to see her, but his kid was his priority and he couldn’t be sad about that. He hoped she wouldn’t resent his commitment as a father, because that was a dealbreaker for him.

“Do you have him every other weekend?” She didn’t sound resentful at all, and Jack wished they were having the conversation in person.

“I wish it were that predictable.” Sara let Charlie stay with Jack whenever he was home and that was where Charlie wanted to be. Their official parenting plan said something different, but they’d never had that kind of tug-of-war with Charlie. “I’m free next weekend. As far as I know,” he added.

“Do you have him right now?”

“No,” he told her. “I’m picking him up at seven.”

“We could meet somewhere for coffee.”

Meeting for coffee was a great idea, casual and low-pressure. He was glad she’d thought of it, because it wasn’t something that would have occurred to him. They agreed on a small bakery downtown that Sam assured him had the best donuts in Colorado. Jack pulled on a sweater and tried to flatten his hair before walking out the door.

Sam was already there when he walked in, sitting at a small table in the corner with two cups of coffee and a plate with more donuts than two people should eat. She’d managed to take the exact seat he would have. The seat across from her left him facing the corner with his back to the room.

“Nice sweater,” she said as soon as he sat down.

Jack looked down at his sweater, trying to decide if she was making fun of him. It was a nice sweater, simple and gray. “Thanks,” he said.

She poured entirely too much cream into her coffee before looking up like she’d just remembered the most important thing in the world. “My mom thinks you sound sexy.”

“I’m not sure what to make of that.” He couldn’t even pretend to find it inappropriate, because her mom was probably closer to his age than Sam was. He tried to imagine what it would be like to meet her parents, how horrified they would be to see what their otherwise intelligent young daughter had dragged in. He almost hoped they wouldn’t get to that point.

Sam laughed and changed his mind. “Nothing,” she said. “So, what do you do for fun?”

It was a tactically abrupt change of subject, and the question was harder than it should have been. He did lots of fun stuff with Charlie, but there was nothing he could think of that he did on his own. “I watch tv,” he said, feeling as pathetic as he sounded.

She rolled her eyes, mistaking his honesty for humor. Jack didn’t bother to correct her. “Do you like hiking? Camping?” she asked.

He loved that stuff when he was younger, but the military had taken that from him too. Ruck marching to the middle of nowhere to live out of a tent for weeks made him cherish his truck and his toilet. “I do that for a living,” he said.

“How about sports?”

“Hockey.”

“Playing or watching?”

He hadn’t played on a team since he was married, but he still got out on the ice with Charlie. Maybe that counted. “Both,” he said.

“I’m terrible on skates.”

Jack had a hard time believing she was terrible at anything. Hockey was an unofficial graduation requirement in Minnesota. Jack might have learned to skate before he learned to walk. “Have you ever tried skating with a hockey stick?”

“No.”

“You should. It helps.” He’d be happy to show her if he ever got the chance. It wasn’t right that she could fly jets but couldn’t skate. “How about you?” he asked.

“I raced BMX bikes for a while.”

“That’s… so cool. My bikes all had banana seats and ape hanger handlebars.”

She tipped her head like she was imagining him as a boy, cruising the neighborhood on his bike that was only safe at low speeds and in straight lines. “I bet you looked cool on them,” she said.

“I looked something, that’s for sure.” Jack had spent most of his youth as a tall, skinny outcast whose jeans never seemed to cover his ankles. It wasn’t until he hit high school that he developed any kind of reputation for coolness. Mostly by being an irreverent ass, but it was his only talent back then.

Jack felt like they’d hit the end of a speed dating round. Sam was quiet for a moment, contemplating the bottom of her coffee cup like she was reading tea leaves.

“Are you free Sunday afternoon?” she asked. She looked up from her cup and into his eyes. Jack fiddled with his napkin. “We could go for a short hike. Something close. Mount Cutler, maybe?”

Jack thought about her backpack that looked like it belonged in the woods. Maybe he could learn to enjoy hiking again. He jumped on her offer with all of his feet, hoping he wasn’t being too eager and watching her reaction carefully. “Okay,” he said. “I can pick you up after I drop Charlie off. About noon?”

 

******

 

She left him with thorough directions, and she’d even drawn him a little strip map, so Jack didn’t have any trouble finding her house. He was exactly on time and wondered how long she’d been standing on the curb-- and why she was standing on the curb. She opened the door and climbed in before he could turn off the engine. Jack felt like a getaway driver, but he wasn’t sure what they were getting away from.

Sunday afternoon traffic was light and the trailhead was close to town. They spent the short drive discussing the newness of Jack’s truck. Sam preferred to fix up old cars with a character she claimed was impossible to find in newer models. Jack tried not to read too much into that; he didn’t want to be her project. Jack had been trading in his cars every two years since steady paychecks had become part of his life. Reliability was more important to him than character.

Sam looked amused when Jack pulled his small rucksack from the back of the cab. It was hard to move past the ‘be prepared for anything’ mindset, and he’d packed MREs, a first aid kit, two canteens and a radio. Sam only had a water bottle and a pocket full of optimism. Jack grabbed his hat and left the pack in the truck.

The trail was well-defined, more of a walking path than a hiking trail. It was wide enough to walk side by side but narrow enough that their shoulders brushed occasionally. He liked walking with her. They both had long strides, and they covered the mile quickly.

Sam took his hand when they reached the post that marked the end of the trail. “Come on,” she said. “I know the best spot.”

She led him to an outcrop that overlooked the city, and they sat down to admire the view. It was gorgeous, well worth the short walk, and Jack had to admit that maybe he’d sworn off hiking too soon.

“This is nice,” he said. “I think I can see Kansas.”

Sam stared out at the city with her chin resting on her knee. “I like Colorado.”

Jack liked Colorado well enough. He’d certainly spent time in places a lot worse. It was never going to replace Minnesota as his mental image of ‘home’ though. “Where are you from?” he asked, suddenly curious about where she might consider her home base.

“Everywhere,” she said. “We moved a lot when I was young.”

Jack’s own childhood had been a lot less transient. He’d only moved once, from Chicago to Minnesota. Maybe that was why the constant change of scenery he had to deal with now grated on him. “I grew up in Minnesota,” he told her even though she hadn’t asked.

“I’ve never been to Minnesota,” she said. “Must not be any Air Force bases there.”

“No. Just lakes. And mosquitos.” Lots and lots of both, especially in his little chunk of it. “It’s nice,” he said.

“I can tell,” said Sam. “You’re really selling it.”

She had an easy laugh, and it made Jack smile. It was true, though, even with the mosquitos, it was the one place he had left where he could just relax and forget about the world. 

“Well, I don’t want everyone knowing about it.” Jack leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles. The brim of his hat cut off Sam’s head so he stared at her shoulders.

“Why not?” she asked. “Are you planning on going back?”

“I have a cabin there.”

She tipped her head so she could look under his hat. Jack turned it around so he could see her whole face again. “On a lake, with mosquitos?”

“That’s the only way they come.”

“Sounds rustic.”

“Yeah,” he said. Talking about his cabin made him want to be at his cabin. He didn’t get up there as much as he would like. One day, he’d just go and not come back. His cabin was a lot like his home phone number-- not a lot of people knew it existed, and of those that did, Sara was the only person who knew its location. He could probably hide out there for years before anyone found him.

“You’re still free next weekend?” she asked.

“As a bird. How about I pick you up Friday night?”

“Friday’s no good,” she said. “I’ve got time on the telescope. How’s Saturday?”

“Saturday works for me.” Unless he was on a mission or with Charlie, Jack’s schedule tended toward depressingly wide open. He’d kept a date book for a while, until the visual representation of his social life got hard to look at. Yellow sticky notes on the fridge had taken its place. They were much more festive and didn’t need to be replaced every year.

 

**********

 

He didn’t come up with an actual plan for their date until Friday. It was something that should have occurred to him sooner, he thought. Movies were dark and didn’t allow for any kind of conversation, restaraunts were too intimate and conversation would be the only thing they could do. As easy as Sam seemed to be to talk to, he wasn’t ready for that kind of date. Finding something in between had been a bit of a challenge.

He didn’t tell Sam where they were going when he picked her up, and spent the entire drive fending off her incorrect guesses. She didn’t stop until they pulled into the parking lot.

“Are you serious?” she said after staring at the building like she was waiting for it to turn into something else.

“I’m always serious.”

“I haven’t been bowling since I was twelve. I stepped over the line and fell on my ass. It wasn’t my best moment.”

“Try not to do that this time. I will definitely laugh if that happens.”

The bowling alley smelled like shoe sanitizer and french fries. It smelled like his youth. Roller skating and bowling had been the highlights of his teen years.

A gaggle of old people were taking up ten lanes on the right, and a league of middle-aged, pot-bellied men were using most of the lanes in the middle. They got assigned to a lane on the left, far away from all the people who were not there on a date.

Jack was a good bowler, a product of his rural Minnesota upbringing. Sam was exactly as not good at bowling as she said she would be. She was a fast learner though, and was noticeably better by the fifth frame. She started off the sixth frame with a hard-earned spare and turned around as soon as the pins fell. Her smile was more than the dingy bowling alley deserved.

“This is fun,” she said, clearly pleased with herself.

It was more than fun. Bowling was definitely underrated--it was the perfect combination of activity, conversation, and companionable silence. Maybe some day it would be popular again. He made a mental note to teach Charlie how to bowl just in case.

“You’re getting pretty good,” he told her.

She ruffled his hair and sat next to him, closer than was good for his brain. Her thigh was warm against his own, and he stared at her knee. He wanted to touch his head where her hand had been.

“You should see me play Bingo.”

“Funny,” said Jack. He cleared his throat and stood up. It was his turn, but he needed to step away for a moment. “I’m going to grab something to eat. Do you want anything?”

“Sure. I could eat.”

“Anything specific?”

“Surprise me.”

There was a line at the counter, so he had a lot of time to decide, or would have if he’d spent that time reading the menu instead of thinking about Sam. He was caught off guard when it was suddenly his turn and ordered the first thing on the menu like it was exactly what he wanted.

“Nachos,” he said, setting the tray on the table with as much flair as he could muster. “Surprise.”

“Ah,” said Sam, rubbing her hands together like he’d brought something a lot better. “Room temperature liquid cheese. The wonders of science.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

The nachos were salty, and the cheese might be a disgusting by-product of questionable food science, but it was also warm and tasty. Sam sat next to him while they ate instead of across from him. Jack liked the casual intimacy of it, the way she touched him occasionally for no real reason.

It was late by the time they finished even though they only bowled one game. All the minutes between frames they spent lingering on the bench added up. Jack traded in his snazzy bowling shoes for his non-snazzy sneakers, and they headed out into the night.

The day had been clear and bright, and all the heat had fled as soon as the sun went down. Sam huddled close to him while they walked like she was trying to absorb his body heat, so Jack put his arm around her and pulled her into his side. It was a good way to end a first date, he thought. He liked having her close even if it did make it harder to think.

“I had a good time,” she said. “Too bad I’ll never be able to tell anyone about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was bowling.”

They were at the back of his truck now, and he leaned against the tailgate, feigning indignation and dragging out the conversation. “There’s nothing wrong with bowling.”

She stood between his feet, too cold to keep any kind of distance between them. With his back to the tailgate and his legs out wide he was almost eye to eye with her. The closeness and the eye contact were making his chest feel tight.

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said.

Jack reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her knuckles and tried to think of something profound to say. Profound wasn’t his thing, and what came out was something honest instead. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Good.” She said it like everything leading up to that moment had been a waste of time. Was he moving too slow? He felt like a dinosaur trying to navigate a relationship with a Pokemon.

He tugged her hand, and she closed the gap between them. Jack waited a beat, letting the anticipation settle low in his stomach, enjoying the sensation in a way he wouldn’t have been capable of when he was younger. It wasn’t a long moment, but it was long enough to earn him an impatient look. Sam put her free hand on his shoulder, her thumb brushed his neck, and Jack’s restraint skittered off into the night.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that would get censored on network television, but it might have gone that direction if they’d been in a different location. He tried to concentrate on the feel of her body pressed against his chest, the way her fingers tightened on his shoulder when he opened his mouth and she deepened the kiss for a moment before pulling away. 

“This is way better than bowling,” she said. He let go of her hand, trading it in for her waist, and slid his fingers together behind her back. She kissed him one more time with a youthful intensity Jack wasn’t prepared for. He let his hands drop lower and pulled her tighter against him.

“This is way better than so many things,” he said. So much better that he had to remind himself they were in a bowling alley parking lot. A door slammed somewhere off to their left, saving him from all the bad ideas in his head.

“I guess I should get you home.” It was the last thing he wanted to say, and he thought he saw a flash of regret pass across her eyes.

Sam backed off and licked her bottom lip. “I guess you should,” she said.


	4. Chapter 4

May, 1995

 

Jack liked the bakery.

It was warm and inviting, full of good smells and acoustic music. It made him wonder why anyone went to bars, which were none of those things. Coffee shops were clearly the bars of the future. He’d be sad when the trend caught on; the lack of a crowd was part of the appeal.

He got there early so he could get the good seat and pick the donuts. The display case was overwhelming, glazed, sprinkled, filled, old-fashioned, maple bars, maple bars with bacon, apple fritters, german chocolate, red velvet--each donut looked more appealing than the last, and he ended up with far too many.

Sam showed up late, looking like she’d had a rough week. Finishing up her final year at school was a pain in the ass. He knew that, because it was all she’d been talking about. Not that he minded. He’d enjoyed her bitching immensely. She was funny and sarcastic, going back and forth between the overtly sexist crap she had to put up with and the overwhelming stupidity she had to put up with.

“Sorry I’m late.” He stood up when she walked over, and she kissed him before flopping into the chair next to his. Their knees bumped together under the small circle of the table.

“It’s okay,” said Jack. “I got to pick the donuts.”

Jack slid the plate of donuts toward her, because she looked like she needed one. Sam grabbed a chocolate covered, old-fashioned donut like it was a life preserver. He put his hand under the table and ran his thumb over her thigh. She made a happy noise and shifted even closer to him. Two weeks worth of phone conversations had been a poor substitute for her company.

“My parents are getting suspicious,” she said.

“About what?” Jack watched her eat and replayed the past two months in his head. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything that warranted suspicion. At least not from her parents.

“About what I’m doing at their house every weekend,” she said. She put her hand on top of his and pulled it higher up her thigh. Jack stilled his thumb and picked up his coffee, hoping to soothe his suddenly dry throat. Sam kept talking and Jack worked hard to hear her over the blood rushing through his ears. 

“Oh. That.” The thought of her making that long drive every weekend was sobering. He turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through hers, feeling like an ass for assuming it was her normal routine. He would have driven to Boulder or met her halfway if he’d known.

“They’re going to want to meet you,” she said. “My mom’s been lingering around the living room when she knows I’m going out, hoping you’ll come to the door. You should come to commencement.”

“That doesn’t sound appealing.”

“It’ll be fine.” She said the words with a conviction Jack wasn’t buying. “My mom will be happy to hear your voice in person, and my dad-- It’ll be fine,” she repeated like that would make it true.

“Again,” said Jack. “So not appealing.”

**********

The day she graduated was cold and overcast, miserable weather, but not miserable enough to have the ceremonies shortened. He left his house at six, after spending an hour deciding what to wear, and got there early enough to get a better seat than he chose. He took a seat high up in the stands facing the mountains. It made him feel less claustrophobic as he watched people crowd into the stadium.

Like most ceremonies, it was mostly boring. Jack tried to pick her out on the stage to kill time. Then he tried to find her parents in the crowd, looking for evidence of her DNA in the faces of strangers. He succeeded at neither, but managed to keep himself entertained for a whole hour before the urge to stand up and pace paid him a visit. It wasn’t unexpected. They were old friends.

There were some overly enthusiastic shouts from somewhere in the front when her name was finally called. She looked confident and strong walking across the stage, like everything she wanted in life was on the other side, and all she had to do was go over and grab it. He watched her until she melted back into the seats, swallowed by a sea of black.

When it was finally over, he met her in front of the letter ‘C’ at the south end of the stadium. C for Carter, she’d said. He took his time getting to the endzone, and her family was already there, crowded around her and making him feel like more of an outsider. 

Her mother looked as much like Sam as she sounded like her. It was like getting the chance to see future Sam in a world where time travel was possible. Sam’s brother was there with Emily, but his wife was nowhere to be seen. Babies were always a good excuse to get out of these things. 

Sam’s dad was in uniform, a choice Jack never would have made unless he didn’t actually have a choice. He was shorter than Jack expected. What’s left of his hair was dark, and Jack would have bet money he wasn’t related to Sam at all. Her mother’s genes were kicking ass and taking names in that family.

Sam spotted him lingering around the edge of her family and smiled at him like he was the best thing to happen to her that day. Jack had no idea how he was supposed to live up to a smile like that. 

She grabbed his arm when he got close enough and pulled him into the spotlight. Jack braced himself for the awkward introductions. At least when he’d met Sara’s parents, he’d been young enough to not feel like he was too old for this shit.

“Mom, Dad, this is Jack.”

Her dad was inspecting him, trying for a polite smile and missing the mark. Sam’s mom, Elizabeth, he reminded himself, was a lot better at the polite smiling. “Jack,” she exclaimed. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She stressed the word finally and hugged him like they were old friends. It threw him off. Jack didn’t get to meet too many huggers in his line of work.

Her dad shook his hand as suspiciously as one could shake a hand. “Jacob,” he said because Sam hadn’t bothered to give him a name. Jack suspected ‘dad’ would not be acceptable. “Jack--?” 

“O’Neill,” said Jack, answering the question floating at the end of his name. “Two L’s.”

“Jack O’Neill? _Colonel_ Jack O’Neill?”

Jack wasn’t entirely surprised that a high ranking Air Force officer recognized his name, even though most of them liked to pretend he didn’t exist, that they had no need for someone with his skillset. It was something he’d hoped wouldn’t come up. 

Sam looked at Jack and then at her father. “You know him?” she asked.

“I know of him,” said Jacob. 

The suspicion was back in full force. Jack couldn’t even resent it. Nobody wanted to see their daughter hanging on the arm of somebody with Jack’s history. It might be the only thing he had in common with Jacob, the belief that Jack shouldn’t be trusted around ordinary people.

“Really?” Sam looked at Jack like he was Clark Kent, and she’d just caught him without his glasses. Like he’d been keeping his military identity a secret. He hadn’t, really. She’d just never asked, and he’d been all too happy to not volunteer the details.

Emily jumped into the conversation, tossing out more information than Jack would have liked. She’d been staring at him pretty hard, and Jack saw the moment the little light bulb appeared over her head. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re Charlie’s daddy.” She turned and looked up at Sam’s brother. “He flies airplanes, daddy.”

Jacob’s eyebrows shot up, and he shifted his focus back to Sam. “He has a kid?” 

Jack bristled at Jacob’s tone. Charlie was the best thing he’d ever done in life, and he wasn’t going to let this guy talk about him like he was some kind of liability, like his existence made Jack unworthy of Sam’s time. 

Sam was looking at her father like she’d looked at the assholes in the bar. Jack decided to hang back and trust her to deal with the situation. “Yes, dad,” she snapped. “His name is Charlie, and he’s eight.” Sam squeezed Jack’s hand, sending a silent apology through her fingers.

“Honestly, Jacob,” added Sam’s mom. There was an unsaid ‘what is wrong with you’ written all over her face.

Jacob looked at the two of them like he had no idea what he’d done wrong. “What?” he said. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” He kept talking, trying to dig his way out of the situation. “I’m sorry, Jack. I like kids. Sam just never mentioned it.”

Sam glared at her dad for that last comment. Jack liked her a little bit more for it. 

“I drive a Ford F250, my favorite color is green, and I’m a Scorpio,” said Jack. “Now you know everything.” Sam dropped her eyes, but Jack caught the laughter in them anyway. Her dad looked much less amused, but Jack was too focused on the warm feeling in his chest to care. 

“We’re taking Sam out to dinner,” said Elizabeth in a clear attempt to move the conversation along before Jacob could say anything else. Jack got the impression she had a lot of experience dealing with her husband’s lack of tact. “You’re welcome to join us.” 

Jack had zero interest in going on a dinner date with Sam’s parents before going on a dinner date with Sam. Or ever, really. He shifted on his feet, trying to think of a way to escape without looking like too much of an asshole. “Ah, no, thanks,” he said. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. We’d love to have you.” She kicked at Jacob’s foot. It was the most unsubtle thing Jack had ever seen. Jacob frowned at his foot but chimed in anyway.

“Yes,” he said. “The more the merrier.”

“No, really. I have to get back to… my house.”

Sam interrupted them before it got any worse. “Stop. Both of you. This has been enough interaction for one day.” She sounded exasperated but unsurprised. Jack was pulled along when she started walking away from her family. “I’ll meet you guys back at my apartment,” she said.

Sam’s brother stopped them and shook Jack’s hand. “Mark,” he said, because Sam was terrible at introductions. “Welcome to the family. And good luck.” His smile was so similar to Sam’s, Jack couldn’t help but like him 

“Thanks,” Jack replied even though he thought it was a premature sentiment. 

It finally started to rain while they were walking to the parking lot. A fitting way to end, Jack thought. Sam slid her arm around his waist and leaned against him. “Sorry about my dad,” she said.

“It’s okay.” The words were for himself as much as for her. “I’m guessing I’m not what he was expecting.” 

She didn’t deny that. He wondered if she’d told her parents anything about him at all. But what did she know, really? That he was in the Air Force? He had a cabin somewhere in Minnesota?

“He’ll get over it,” she said. Jack wasn’t so sure. 

“If you say so.”

They stopped by the hood of his truck, and Sam brushed a rain drop off his forehead. She was giving him a look he didn’t understand yet. Like he was a foreign word that sounded almost familiar. “Colonel. I guess I should have known that by now.”

She absolutely should have known. It was the weirdest thing in the world that two Air Force officers had spent so much time together and had never once discussed their ranks. It was one of the many things he liked about her.

“Now that you do, I expect a salute every now and then.”

“I’ll get right on that,” she said, tossing him a half-hearted, two-finger salute before putting her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you came. I know it wasn’t fun for you.”

“No, but I do like the polyester robes.” Her polyester shoulders were speckled with raindrops. He started to wish he’d agreed to dinner with her family just so he could be near her longer. 

“Maybe I’ll wear them for you later,” she said. Jack liked the way she put her hands on his face when she kissed him goodbye. It felt just a little bit possessive, and now he really was going to have some weird association with the stupid gown. 

He held on to her hand when she started to walk away, making her stop when their arms stretched between them. “Congratulations, Doctor Carter.” 

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s weird.”

 

**********

 

Sam picked him up the next day so they could go on their own dinner date. 

Jack didn’t have a nosy mother at his house, and she had to come to his door. He was still looking for one of his shoes when she knocked. Why the shoes weren’t in the same spot was, and would forever be, a mystery. 

“Come in. I need to find my other shoe.” He waved her in and gestured toward the living room. “Feel free to wander around.”

Finding the shoe turned out to be more of an adventure than he expected. He finally found it in the garage by the recycling bins. He stood out there for a good five minutes trying to remember why it was there but came up empty. He couldn’t even blame Charlie, because he’d worn the damn things yesterday. 

Sam was in the living room when he got back, cataloging the medals and ribbons hanging on his walls. “You’re Special Ops?” she asked. 

“I am.” He was mildly surprised her father hadn’t filled her in on all the details. Maybe Jack’s name was the only thing Jacob had heard of.

“Impressive.” She picked up a picture that was sitting on his end table. It was an old picture, taken before he’d realized the military wasn’t all flags, bald eagles, and camaraderie. “You don’t look old enough to drive,” she said. “I can’t believe they let you fly a plane.”

He stepped up behind her and pulled her close, peering over her shoulder and trying not to stare too hard at her cleavage. She tipped her head back and he kissed her neck.

“They’ll let anyone fly those things,” he said.

**********

Her car was tiny and low, but it seemed to have an extra dimension just for leg room. It was also narrow, and he was sitting really close to her. Jack liked the car right up until the moment she started driving it like she was testing out a new fighter jet design. He did his best to remain calm but was relieved when she pulled into the parking lot.

“You made the right choice not having dinner with my parents,” she told him while they made their way through appetizers and beer. Sam had ordered a platter of deep fried everything. Jack thought he could hear his arteries crying. He didn’t think he’d ever had to choose beer as the health conscious decision before. Life was full of surprises.

“Food wasn’t good?”

“They spent the entire time interrogating me about you.”

He wanted to think that had he been there, the interrogation wouldn’t have happened, but there was a good chance he was wrong about that. 

“I’m sorry I missed that,” he said. “Sounds like a good time.”

The waiter showed up then, dropping off their dinner and interrupting the conversation. They were mostly quiet while they ate. The food was simple but good. Sam had good taste in restaurants. 

Jack picked up the conversation again after ordering dessert. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I’ll be teaching at the Academy this summer.” 

“The summer program for high school kids?” 

She nodded and gave him an evil, taking over the world grin. “So many impressionable minds to warp. I can’t wait.”

Sam drove back to his house at a more reasonable speed. He toyed with her knee for most of the ride, because it was just so damn close to him. Jack was slightly disoriented when they pulled into his driveway and his truck was already there. She parked next it and turned off the engine. Jack wasn’t sure what protocol the situation called for.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. 

“I can’t,” she said. “I have to report in tomorrow. I don’t want to be late my first day back.”

Jack liked that she thought if she came in, she’d be there for a long time and be so tired she’d have to sleep in the next morning. He didn’t want her to leave, but they were too old to hang out in the car. 

“Do you want to see my telescope? It’s not technically inside the house.”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“No.” At least it hadn’t been. Now he wasn’t so sure. 

“Okay, then. I do want to see your telescope.”

“Wait. Is _that_ some kind of euphemism?”

“Not tonight,” she said. 

The weather wasn’t right for stargazing so all they could do was look at the telescope. It wasn’t all that impressive with nothing to point it at. “It’s nice,” said Sam even though her eyes never left his. 

“Yeah,” he said and leaned down to kiss her. “It’s very nice.” 

Her shirt was unbuttoned low enough to be a distraction. He’d been trying not to stare at it all night, but maybe now was the time for staring. And for touching. He moved his hand under her shirt, slowly in case she objected. Her stomach was smooth and flat under his palm. She pressed into him when he brushed her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

“I wish you could stay,” he told her. 

“Maybe I can spare thirty more minutes.”

“That is more tempting than you’ll ever know,” he told her. “There’s just no way thirty minutes would be enough time.” 

Her smile faded into seriousness, like she was seeing him in a different light. “Then I guess we’ll wait,” she said. “But we should check out your telescope more often.” 

“Was that-”

“Yes,” she said as she trailed her knuckles down the front of his jeans. “That was definitely a euphemism.”

He walked out to the street after she left. The cool air felt good on his face. Her tail lights were already gone when he reached the end of his driveway. The slow walk back to his front door gave him all the time in the world to think about all the things they could have done in thirty minutes. 

Sleep was a long time coming.


	5. Chapter 5

June, 1995 

 

Teaching at the Academy and getting back into the Air Force routine kept Sam busy, and Jack didn’t see her at all during her first session of class. He spent the entire week wondering what he’d done with his time before she’d come along to help him kill it. 

He got the world’s shittiest phone call the last day she had classes, not so shitty for its content, more for its timing. He was starting to think the Air Force kept tabs on his personal life and liked to fuck with him by sending him off whenever it looked like he might be making some progress. 

He called Sam as soon as he was sure she’d be home, because nothing made bad news more palatable than sharing it. She sounded like a kid on the first day of summer vacation, and Jack almost pretended he’d called for a better reason. It wasn’t like not telling her was really an option. She was sure to notice.

“I have to go out of town next week,” he told her. He didn’t usually get that much warning and he was glad for it. 

Jack leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes when she didn’t say anything. Maybe she was starting to wonder why she was wasting her time with him. She had enough military experience to understand the secretive, dangerous nature of his life. He wouldn’t blame her if she bailed on all that. 

“For how long?” she asked. 

“Hard to say. A month, maybe?” It was an optimistic estimate. This thing in Bosnia didn’t sound like it was going to end easily. It was nice, though, to hang on to that optimism for a while. 

Sam went quiet again. He could tell by her breathing that she was pacing. “What are you doing?” she finally said. “Right now.”

Jack was doing a whole lot of nothing. He’d only gotten as far as taking a shower and hadn’t bothered getting dressed. “Sitting on the couch in my underwear,” he told her. It might have been too much honesty, but it was hot, and the only fan he owned was in the bedroom.

“Good. Stay that way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

It took twenty-five, and every minute over twenty had him convinced she wasn’t going to show up at all. He was already standing by the front door when he heard her car pull in. He waited there until she knocked, trying to talk his heart back out of his throat. 

She stepped into his house, giving him an amused once-over, because he was good at following orders. The way she bit her lip when her eyes paused at his waistband made his head spin. 

“I thought you were kidding about the underwear,” she said.

“I don’t joke about underwear.” That was a lie, of course, because the statement itself was a joke, an attempt to settle himself that wasn’t working very well. 

“Good,” said Sam. “Because a month is a long time.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in an entirely new way. It was almost demanding, full of promises she clearly intended to keep. 

“It is,” said Jack, even though experience had taught him otherwise. Months tended to fly by and bleed into other months, the months into years, the years to decades, until suddenly you were forty years old and wondering if all the good parts of your life were over. 

Jack walked her to his bedroom and shut the door. He stood still for a moment, holding onto the doorknob, collecting his thoughts. Even though sex had been on the horizon for weeks, he felt like the reality of it had just jumped out of his closet to surprise him. 

Sam came up behind him and kissed the back of his neck. “What are you thinking about?” she asked. Jack didn’t have time to formulate any kind of response to that before she slid a hand into his underwear. He thought she probably found her answer in there anyway. His penis was pretty eloquent like that. She touched him like she’d shaken his hand so long ago, confidently and self-assured. All Jack could do was breathe and hope his knees kept working. 

She stopped--finally or too soon, he couldn’t decide-- and he turned around on his unsteady legs. Sam’s shirt was full of buttons, and he had a hard time summoning the fine motor control needed to undo all of them. It was well worth the effort, he thought, when it dropped off her shoulders and onto the floor. She’d dressed for the occasion and wasn’t wearing anything under it.

He traced the path of her shirt with his hands. Her skin was soft under his touch, like canvas on silk. Everything about her was so young, smooth and unmarred. He was suddenly embarrassed by the scars on his chest, his knees, his everywhere. He wanted to apologize for the sorry state of his body, but she was looking at him like couldn’t see any of his flaws. Or maybe she thought they didn’t matter. He liked that idea better.

The sheets beneath his back felt cool, a sharp contrast to the heat everywhere else. Sam pulled his boxers down over his hips and legs, leaving them around his ankles while she kissed her way back up his body. It was a slow, thorough journey and Jack’s hands were clenched tight by the time she made it to his chest. 

She settled herself on top of him, staring down at him the entire time. She was warm and slick against him, and he wanted to be inside of her more than he wanted the air in his lungs. Sam leaned forward when he lifted his hips and angled her own, slowly pushing herself around him. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation wash over him. Jack wasn’t a talker in bed but he wanted to tell her so many things right then. Everything in his head wanted to come pouring out of his mouth in one long string of incoherent thoughts. 

Jack let her move at her own exquisitely slow pace that he tried to match with his thumb, moving it in lazy circles between them. Everytime he thought he was about to come, she’d go still and press harder into his hand. It was agonizing and perfect. He was sure he was going to die or go blind. 

He didn’t die, and his vision would probably clear up, and she was finally--finally!-- not stopping, and it all happened faster than he would have liked, but he had high hopes for next time. All the next times, all the ways he wants her, he could see them lined up, going on forever.

Sam stayed sprawled across his chest long enough make Jack wish he’d turned the fan on. She finally slid off of him and rolled onto her back. “That might be the best sex I’ve ever had,” she said. 

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head.” 

It wouldn’t go to his head, because the sex will only get better. He was as sure of that as he was of his own name. First times were memorable for being first, not best--best was something earned over time. And really, she’d done most of the work. He didn’t intend to be so passive in the future. He suddenly and irrationally hated every other man who’s ever touched her. Her standards should be so much higher.

Jack ran his thumb over her flushed cheek and pushed her hair back behind her ear. He wanted to keep this sleepy, satisfied version of Sam in his bed for as long as possible.

“Can you stay?” he asked. 

“I think I have to,” said Sam. “I’m not sure I can walk.”

Jack woke up confused, because the angle of the light coming through the window was all wrong. Sam was already awake and looked like she’d been that way for some time. She was dragging her fingers through the hair on his stomach, making little patterns that he couldn’t decipher. 

“Good morning,” she said. “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

He rolled over and squinted at the alarm clock trying to remember the last time he’d slept so late. “Fuck,” was all he could say. He waited a minute before trying again. “I thought we’d have more time.”

Sam raised her eyebrows at him. “More time for what?”

He kissed her forehead before climbing out of bed. “A shower. Breakfast. That kind of stuff.” 

“I like that kind of stuff.” She said that while staring at his enthusiastic erection. Jack took a desperate look at his clock, wishing he’d read it wrong the first time. Sam followed his gaze and laughed at him. “Are you kicking me out?”

He pulled her out of his bed and buried his face in her neck. “I am,” he said. “I have to get Charlie.” 

They made plans for Sunday before he actually kicked her out, and Jack took the coldest shower he could manage before heading over to Sara’s.

**********

Sam showed up exactly on time Sunday afternoon. Jack had to intercept her in his driveway.

“Hey,” he said before she had a chance to close her door. “Charlie’s still here.” 

Sam studied his face for a moment, trying to figure out what she was supposed to say. “I can come back.” It was as much of a question as a statement, but it was the right answer either way. 

“Are you sure?” He hadn’t talked to Charlie about Sam yet, but he’d been thinking about setting up a date for the three of them. Something simple to get Charlie comfortable with the idea of Sam being around. And then there was Sara. He should probably talk to her before doing any of that. His life suddenly seemed complicated.

Sam looked over his shoulder and her eyes went wide. Jack turned around to see Charlie running from the side of the house, taking the decision out of their hands. 

“Dad!” he yelled. “I hit one over the fence!” 

Sam smiled at Charlie, still hanging onto her car door like she wasn’t sure what she should do. Jack took the bat from Charlie’s overly excited kid hands and tapped the brim of his hat. “Sounds like you’re ready to go pro,” he said before asking, “Do you remember Sam?”

Charlie looked at Sam like he’d just noticed she was there. His face went from confused to excited with the speed only children could manage. “Sure,” he said, looking around like he was expecting someone else. “Where’s Emily?” 

“She’s home, playing with her little brother,” said Sam. Jack tried to imagine what that consisted of. Emily probably had him marching around in his diaper.

“Emily knows a lot about planes.” 

“That she does,” said Sam. She looked at Jack, questioning him with her eyes. Jack reached over and shut her door. There was no reason to send her away at this point. 

“Come on,” he said. “Charlie will keep you entertained while I start dinner.”

Sam stopped when they got to the deck and looked down at Charlie. “I think I have something you might like, Charlie. That is, if your dad doesn’t mind,” she added with a quick look at Jack. 

“I don’t mind,” said Jack. “In fact, I look forward to seeing your… thing.”

Sam bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Jack was still delighted whenever she laughed at his jokes. “Come on, Charlie.” She turned around and Charlie followed her back to the driveway.

He’d expected Sam to have something interesting, but Charlie mostly looked confused when they came back. Sam dropped a large box on the deck. Jack wasn’t sure how it had fit in her car.

Charlie poked at the box and looked up at Jack. “Sam says it’s an airplane,” he said. He looked torn between his faith in adults and the reality of the situation; the pile of balsa wood and foam clearly wasn’t going to fly.

“Well, Sam’s pretty smart. If she says it’s an airplane, it’s probably an airplane.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie. Emily’s taught me a thing or two.”

Jack pulled a table out of the way so they could sit on the ground and work. He watched them long enough to decide that they were comfortable together and didn’t need him to mediate. Maybe he’d been over thinking the whole introduction process. 

“I’m going to go inside and start getting dinner ready,” he said.

“Hold on,” said Sam. She stood up and walked to the door with him. “Are you sure this is okay with you?”

“Absolutely. I’m glad he likes you.” Jack looked back at Charlie. He was going through Sam’s supplies, separating everything neatly into piles. Lego kits had taught him well. “I was just worried about his reaction, you know? This is- There hasn’t been anyone since the divorce.” 

There had barely been a him since before the divorce. He’d been slowly piecing himself back together since Iraq. It was just lately that he’d begun to feel mostly complete.

For a moment, she looked like she thought he was joking. Then she dropped her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Jack started to wonder what he’d said wrong. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she said.

“Yeah, well. I told you. I don’t get out much.” He did his best to smile, because the moment had turned into something uncomfortable and heavy. Sam didn’t say anything else, but she did give his fingers a quick touch before turning around. 

Jack was working on a salad when Sara finally showed up. She knocked twice before walking in. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, dropping her keys on the counter. 

The window in the kitchen had a great view of the back yard. Sam was out there showing Charlie how to adjust the ailerons before he threw the plane. It had taken awhile, but the plane was flying long and level now. 

Sara turned to Jack with furrowed brows. “Who’s that?” she asked.

“That,” he said, “is Sam.” Jack finished rinsing the lettuce and set it on the counter. He glanced outside, hoping Sam and Charlie would stay out there for the next few minutes. 

“Girlfriend?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, but he owed Sara the truth. “Maybe.”

Sara studied them through the window before answering. “She’s-” She paused there, maybe trying to come up with a more tactful way to say what came next. “Young.”

“I know,” said Jack. “Trust me, I know.” He knew, her parents knew. Sam herself didn’t seem to care, but she had to know just the same. “But she’s-” He wanted to say that she was smart and amazing and so many things he couldn’t put into words. He’d just have to let Sam speak for herself. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Charlie ran over as soon as he saw Sara, holding the plane high over his head. “Mommy! Look what Sam and I made.” 

Sara had to dodge the left wing when he circled around her. “That’s great, kiddo.”

Sam followed Charlie across the yard, picking up errant pieces of foam along the way. Jack didn’t get the chance to introduce her, because she did it herself. “Hi,” she said. “You must be Sara.”

“And you must be Sam who may or may not be Jack’s girlfriend.” Sam took that in stride, giving Jack a mild eyebrow raise when Sara turned to look at the plane. Jack didn’t know what it meant. 

“Are you in the Air Force too?”

Sam nodded. “I’m teaching at the Academy until I get into NASA.” She said that like NASA was a foregone conclusion. Like the whole selection process was just a formality. 

“Sounds ambitious,” said Sara. “I’m a CPA. We mostly keep our feet on the ground.”

“That’s probably a lot more useful than hurtling through space in a shuttle.”

“And safer.”

Sam laughed, perfectly at ease with Jack’s ex-wife. It was something Jack hadn’t managed for a long time. “That too,” she said.

Jack thought their conversation was going to end there, but Sara was starting to look like she had more questions for Sam. Jack had been on the receiving end of that expression too many times to miss it. “Is that your Volvo in the driveway?”

“It is,” said Sam. “I bought it when I got back from the Gulf.”

“It’s nice.”

Sam lit up like they were talking about her first born child. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m just getting started on the interior. Every missing piece is a hundred dollars. It’s ridiculous.”

Sara shook her head in agreement. “I have a sixty-five Mustang. It’s never going to be finished.”

Jack watched them talk about cars, feeling a little like he was on some sort of hidden camera show. Something about ex-wives who came to your house and convinced your new girlfriends to run off with them. Sam even invited Sara to stay for dinner, which Jack thought was especially odd considering it was his house.

“Maybe next time,” said Sara. “Somebody has school tomorrow.” She looked over at Charlie. “Go get your stuff, little man. That somebody is you.”

Charlie gave Sam a hug before running inside for his backpack. “Thanks for the airplane, Sam.”

“Take good care of it,” Sam told him. “It’s important research material.”

Charlie looked solemn, impressed with the responsibility bestowed upon him. “I will.”

Sam stayed in the backyard while Jack walked Sara and Charlie to the car. Charlie gave Jack a hug before climbing into the back seat. Sara tried to wrangle the plane into her trunk without destroying it. 

“So,” she said once the plane was safely put away. “Sam seems nice.”

Jack rubbed the back of his head and glanced back at the house. “Yeah, look,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect Charlie to be here this late.” Sara didn’t look like she expected an apology, but Jack knew he’d be less than thrilled if he’d shown up at her house to find someone he’d never met hanging out with Charlie. Everything had just happened in the wrong order. “If this is… weird or anything, I can-” 

Sara stopped him and shook her head. “No,” she said. “It is weird, but it was bound to happen.”

There wasn’t much more he could say about it. He was lucky, he supposed, that Sara was so pragmatic about the situation. Their lives were always going to be connected through Charlie no matter how divorced they were.

“I’ll call you when I get back.” He opened the door for her and waved to Charlie. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” he said.

Charlie laughed, because, unlike Jack, he never got into trouble. “I will, daddy.”

Sam was in the kitchen when he got back, leaning against the counter and drinking one of his beers. Jack liked the way she looked there. “So,” she said. “Girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” he clarified. “Maybe girlfriend.”

She shook her head and made a disappointed noise. “Sleep with a guy one time and get stuck with a title.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

Sam wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the spot below his ear that wasn’t quite ticklish. “Jack,” she said. “I’m kidding. I’ll be your maybe girlfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, why not.”

He pulled her closer and breathed her in, not sure how he was going to get through the next month. “What do I get to call you after you sleep with me two times?”

“Hmm.. I don’t know, but I think we should find out.”

She stayed at his house every night until he left, and he put his spare key on her keychain before saying a long goodbye. It might have been too soon, but he liked the idea of her in his bed even if he wasn’t there to share it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Life got busy.

September, 1995

It was a shitty mission. Everything went wrong, and Jack’s optimistic month turned into a realistic two and a half months. By the time he left Bosnia, Charlie was back in school, and he’d missed the whole fucking summer. 

He called Sam from Ramstein on his way back to the states. The line was a lot better than the crackling SATCOM phone he’d used to call Sara, and the long-distance relief in her voice came through with a painful clarity. He leaned his head against the wall after he hung up wondering if it was fair of him to put another person through this. It hadn’t exactly ended well the last time.

It was late when he got back-- it was always late when he got back, no matter which time zone he was coming from. He’d jumped through all his post-mission hoops in Germany and went straight from the plane to his truck after landing at Peterson. The truck started hard, and he resented every minute he spent waiting for the engine to warm up. 

He stopped at the end of his driveway. Sam’s car was sitting in his spot, a sporty gray oasis in the desert of his life. She said she’d wait for him at his house, but he didn’t really believe it until that moment. He parked behind her and didn’t waste time getting his duffel bag out of the truck. He wasn’t going to need anything in it. 

The deadbolt scraped open, loud against the backdrop of his silent urgency. He closed the door and stepped into a puddle of light coming from the dining room. Sam’s laptop was sitting alone on the table, quietly decorating the room with its screensaver. He watched it while he tossed his jacket over a chair. It had been so long since he’d come home to a house that wasn’t exactly as he’d left it--only colder and harboring a slight odor of disuse. 

Sam rolled over when he slipped into bed, like a little piece of her had been staying awake, waiting for him to come home. Jack wanted to turn on all the lights so he could see her, to stare into her eyes and see if they were the same shade of blue as they’d been in his imagination the past two months. Sometimes those details were lost over time. 

She brushed her fingertips over his face and found his lips with her thumb. There was just enough light in the room to see her eyes, but they were the same dark color as his own. “Welcome back,” she said. She gave him a long, sleepy kiss and tucked her head under his chin. 

She was asleep before she could notice that he hadn’t said a word. Jack stroked her back until his sleepless trip home caught up with him.

Sam was sitting in bed with her laptop balanced on one knee when he woke up. He propped himself up on his elbow and watched her type. It was hard to tell if she was checking her email or designing a new stealth aircraft. She gave everything the same intense level of concentration. 

A long minute passed, and he wasn’t sure if she was ignoring him or if she hadn’t noticed that he was awake. He reached out to stroke the inside of her free knee. He’d forgotten just how soft her skin was. How perfect. “What are you doing?” 

The rhythm of her keyboard faltered for a second, and she set the computer on the nightstand. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” she said. She scooted back down under the covers so they were side by side. Jack ran his fingers through her hair. She’d gotten it cut again, and it barely covered her ears now. 

Sam gave him a critical once-over, inspecting him for damage. She frowned at a fresh shrapnel scar on his bicep and ran her thumb over it. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said. Her voice caught in her throat like she was just now realizing that every time he went off, there was a good chance he wasn’t going to come back. Or he’d come back the incomplete, broken mess he’d been after Iraq.

He tried to deflect Sam’s concern, because he didn’t want to be the one to chase the optimism off her face. Dwelling on the tenuous nature of his existence wasn’t going to benefit either of them. “Thanks for not running off and finding a new maybe boyfriend while I was gone,” he said.

Sam rolled her eyes like that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Relationships aren’t really my thing. You kind of caught me at a slow point in life.” 

It was one thing they actually had in common, Jack thought. He’d already written off long-term relationships when he’d met her. It was no secret that he wasn’t her top priority in life. And that was okay, because he couldn’t put her first either. But maybe that’s what they both needed to make this work.

He pulled her closer and kissed her like he’d wanted to kiss her last night. She hooked her leg over his when he put his hand on the back of her thigh, and he curled his fingers into her flesh. 

“I missed you,” he said. “So much.” It scared him a little, how quickly she’d worked her way into his poor excuse for a life. 

Sam pressed her heel against his calf and reached down to see just how much he’d missed her. Her fingers were cool against his heated skin. “I might have missed you too,” she said. 

They were still in bed when noon rolled around. Jack had his head resting on Sam’s thigh. She had her laptop out again and was typing with one hand while the other absently rearranged his hair. It sounded like she was faster with one hand than he was with two. He was mostly a hunt and peck kind of guy.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” he asked.

“I took leave,” she said. “I don’t have to be back until Monday.”

That gave them four whole days to get reacquainted. He shifted on the bed so he could kiss the inside of her thigh. She was still so new to him. He planned on putting that time to good use. 

“You really are brilliant.”

“I am,” she agreed. “We can stay here all day.” By ‘here’, he assumed she meant in bed and not just at his house. Either way, he was about to disappoint her.

“I have to leave at two,” he told her. “I want to be at Sara’s when Charlie gets home from school.”

“You’re a good father, Jack. It’s kind of hot.” 

**********

Charlie wasn’t home when he got to the house, so Jack sat around Sara’s kitchen and watched her make cupcakes. They looked fancy. Jack wondered if she’d been taking cupcake classes. Then he wondered if cupcake classes actually existed. They should. Everybody should know how to make cupcakes. 

She added some eyes to all the blue cupcakes that didn’t look like flowers, turning them into little Cookie Monsters. It was fascinating. All that work just for something that was going to get eaten in less time than it had taken to decorate. Sara shoved a small cookie in each cupcake face, completing the look. They were cute, Jack thought. Charlie would like them. He’d always preferred Cookie Monster over the little red menace that was Elmo.

“Since when do you bake?” he asked. Sara had mostly stuck to store bought cakes while they were married. Charlie had been a lot more time-consuming back then. 

“Since your son decided chocolate cake was a food group.”

“I don’t know where he gets that.” When Jack pictured the food pyramid, it was sitting on a rich, dark, chocolate base. He did make an effort to feed Charlie better than he fed himself. It was another thing Jack was going to blame on genetics. 

“Sure you don’t.” 

“I’m taking one of those home with me.”

“Just one?”

It took Jack a few seconds to get her meaning. He was slipping in his old age. He tapped his knuckles on the counter and smiled at her. “Subtle.”

She gave him her best ‘I do what I can’ look and put two cupcakes in a Tupperware container that he’d forget to return. “I stopped by your place to pick up Charlie’s bike, and Sam was there. Pressure washing your deck of all things. I thought she moved in.”

“No, I gave her a key before I left.” 

“That’s what she said.” Sara pressed the center of the lid and slid the container across the counter. She’d given him one flower and one Cookie Monster. Jack wondered if it would be rude to ask for two of each kind. He didn’t want to have to fight for the Cookie Monster. “She came by here every couple of weeks while you were gone.”

Jack stopped spinning his cupcake container. Sam hadn’t mentioned that. “She did?”

“Well, I did invite her the first time.”

“You did?” Jack knew he sounded like a broken record, skipping over the same pointless question. It wasn’t like Sara was prone to making up stories just to fuck with him. 

**********

He could hear Sam rattling around in his kitchen when he got back. She was at the stove, stirring something in the biggest pot he owned. He hugged her and put his head on her shoulder. She was a good height for over the shoulder gazing. 

“Whatcha making?” 

“Soup.”

“Eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog?”

“Potato.” 

“That’s good too.” Less interesting, maybe, but he wasn’t going to complain. He kissed her earlobe, because it was there. “I hear you’ve been hanging out with Sara.”

“She needed some help with the suspension on her Mustang.” Sam leaned against his chest before turning around in his arms and kissing him. “I like her,” she said. “Apparently you have excellent taste in women.”

“Yes. Apparently I do.” Jack reached behind her and turned the stove off, because he was planning on taking her back to bed, and he didn’t want the soup to burn. They’d be hungry later.

**********

She surprised him on his birthday. His surprise mostly consisted of cake and sex, and he was more than okay with that. 

He got home late and found Sam in the dining room wearing a party hat and sticking candles in a cake that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Something from the new French bakery he’d been planning to visit since it opened last month. He’d only mentioned it once, but Sam was the kind of person that paid attention to small details and once was enough. 

“Happy birthday!” she announced with a smile that made lighting the candles seem like a waste of time. She bounded across the room to wrap herself around him, all long arms and warm breasts. Jack wished his birthday came around more often. “Sorry about the candles,” she said. “I didn’t know exactly how many to put on there.” 

Jack looked more closely at the cake. The candles were arranged in a question mark. He pressed his face into her neck. She smelled like she’d spent a lot of time in the bakery picking out his cake. “Forty-three,” he told her. 

“I’ll get it right next time.” It was a casual comment, but it carried a lot of meaning. Mostly that she was planning on being there for another birthday. He hugged her tighter, basking in the light of her easy confidence.

“I can take you out to dinner,” she said, “or we can stay here and eat this entire cake.” 

There was a strongly implied ‘and have lots of sex’ at the end of the sentence. Jack wasn’t sure why she bothered pretending there was any kind of choice.

Sara dropped Charlie off the next morning. He zoomed into the house waving a homemade birthday card and a poorly wrapped present. Sara was close behind, carrying his backpack and scooter. Jack held the door for her. She left the scooter outside and dumped the backpack on the floor. Charlie grabbed it and ran off to his room. He was big fan of having his clothes folded neatly in drawers, and unpacking was always the first thing on his list. 

Jack watched him go and shook his head. Charlie was still ninety percent exuberance. Sara gave him a hug and pointed down the hall where Charlie had disappeared. “Happy birthday, Jack. I got you a small boy.”

It was a bit of a re-gift, but he’d take it. “Thanks. It’s just what I wanted.”

“Where’s Sam?”

Jack smiled absently at the thought of Sam. “She’s in my office,” he said. “Grading papers.” She’d disappeared just after breakfast, and Jack had been doing his best not to bother her. It wasn’t easy having her in the house and not being near her. Charlie would be a good distraction. 

“Huh,” Sara said. She was looking at Jack like he’d said something completely different. “Well, tell her I said hi.” Sara made it about three steps before she turned back to him. “Oh, and Charlie wants to be a pirate.”

They were up until nine putting the final touches on Charlie’s Halloween costume. Sara would take him out in her neighborhood so he could be with his friends, but Jack was in charge of costuming. 

Charlie was yawning while Jack adjusted the position of the parrot on his shoulder. A good pirate costume never went out of style. He patted the plastic bird on the head. “I think we’re finished. You look great.”

“But do I look scary?”

Jack picked Charlie up and stood him on the coffee table. Charlie turned around slowly and tried his best to look menacing. The smiling plastic parrot was not helping. “Oh yeah. Terrifying. Right, Sam?”

“Totally. You might have to tone it down so you don’t scare the little kids.”

Jack took Charlie’s non-hooked hand so he could hop off the table without breaking anything. Halloween costumes weren’t built for any activity beyond a slow trudge through the suburbs. “Go take this off and get ready for bed,” he said. “I’ll be up in ten minutes to tuck you in.”

“Okay.” Charlie ran up the stairs as best he could with his longsword hanging off his hip and his fake wooden leg thumping on the carpet. “Goodnight, Sam,” he yelled from the hallway.

“He’s so cute,” said Sam. She grimaced at her watch and stood up to stretch her back. “I should go.”

She’d spent the night at his house more often than not over the past month but never when Charlie was there. She’d usually leave just after dinner, letting Charlie have Jack all to himself for the evening. Jack thought it might be time to move things forward on that front. Maybe it was greedy of him, but he wanted them both there at breakfast, with their wild sleep hair and soft pajamas. 

“You should stay,” said Jack. 

“Are you sure? It’s fine if he’s not ready for that.”

“Just don’t go anywhere. Let me talk to him.”

Jack waited on the edge of the bed while Charlie brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas. De-pirating took a long time. He finally came skipping into the room, twirling the parrot by the feet and singing about bottles of rum. Sara was going to love that. Charlie climbed into bed, and Jack pushed his hair off his forehead.

“I want to talk to you about Sam,” he said. He straightened the sheet across Charlie’s chest and tried to find the right words to explain what he wanted to say. “She’s like a really special friend.” Charlie stared at him, curious, but not old enough to guess where the conversation was going. “And sometimes she stays here with me.”

“Like how you and mommy used to live together?” Charlie said that like it was a story he’d heard, not something he’d lived through. 

“Yeah, buddy. Just like that. She’s going to sleep over, and she’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”

Charlie’s face lit up like it was his best friend spending the night. Jack cleared his throat, sending his laugh back into his chest. He’d be sad when Charlie’s innocence was gone and conversations like this would lead to embarrassment. 

“I like Sam,” said Charlie.

As far as Jack could tell, everybody liked Sam. “I’m glad. I like her too.” He kissed Charlie’s forehead before turning out the light. “Sleep tight.” 

Sam was still in the living room staring out the window. Or staring at the window, because it was too dark to see anything but her own reflection. She turned around when he got to the bottom of the stairs, looking wary, like she expected bad news. It wasn’t a look he saw on her face often. 

“Charlie might be more excited about you spending the night than I am,” he said. It wasn’t true, of course. Nobody was more excited than Jack. 

Her whole body looked relieved, and Jack felt like something vital had shifted their relationship. A step change toward something more solid. 

“Good,” she said. “I didn’t really want to leave.”


	7. Chapter 7

November, 1995

The amount of sex they’ve been having was probably going to kill Jack, but Sam will be well rested.

While Sam was passed out in the bedroom taking her post-sex power nap, he built a fire and watched everything on his television in two minute chunks. Television was ninety percent garbage as far as he could tell. He was on his third trip through the channels when she finally came looking for him. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

This was another part of her recharging pattern, one that Jack was prepared for. 

“I ordered pizza.” He’d planned on cooking dinner, but she’d showed up at his house early and unexpectedly and found him in the shower. And now, here they were, still not entirely clean, and hungry. 

The pizza was good--big, floppy slices that had to be folded in half to eat. They ate in the living room because there was no fireplace in the dining room. Jack had the local news playing on the television, but the sound was muted, and he had to make up his own stories to go along with the pictures. It was a good way to end an otherwise shitty day. He was still trying to chase off the chill he’d picked up running drills in the cold, wet mud all afternoon.

Sam tossed her crust into the box during a commercial and stuck her wooly feet in his lap. Jack looked down at his own naked toes and wished he had socks too. He rubbed the arch of her foot, and she leaned against the back of the couch with her eyes half closed. It wasn’t late enough to go to bed, but the combination of sex, fire, and pizza was taking its toll. He thought she was almost asleep when she tapped him on the stomach with her foot. 

“Hey. Who has Charlie for Thanksgiving?”

“Sara. Why?” Sara’s parents did a big family dinner every year. It didn’t make any sense for Jack to try and compete with that. Thanksgiving had been a solitary holiday for Jack since the divorce.

“You’re coming to my house.” He should have known this was coming. Sam’s parents lived too close to be easily avoided during the holidays. It was either going to be an awkward mess, or a good family bonding exercise. Sara’s dad had never been very fond of Jack, and he didn’t want to repeat that dynamic with Jacob. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you someplace nice?” he asked anyway. It was a half-hearted attempt to get out of it. If she wanted him there, he was going to be there, because all he could think about was how it felt to have her waiting in his bed when he got back from Bosnia. 

“No. I have to eat with my parents. Ruining family traditions is Mark’s job. I’m the good child.”

Jack couldn’t imagine growing up in Sam’s wake. Not joining the Air Force had probably saved Mark from a lifetime of unrealistic standards and unending comparisons. 

**********

Making one pie was inefficient.

Jack was pulling his third pumpkin pie out of the oven when he heard Sam come in the front door. “Something smells good,” she said. 

“I’m making pie.” He took a moment to watch her while she dumped her bag on the dining room table, enjoying the domesticity of her presence in his house, the warmth she added to his life. 

She looked around the disaster zone of his kitchen, then at his pies cooling on the stove. “Are you sure three is enough?”

No, he wasn’t. He wanted to bring two of them to Sam’s house for Thanksgiving which only left one for him. He should have made four. “I like pie.”

“I like that you like pie.” 

Something in her tone made him pause and take note of the way she was looking at him-- playful and a little hungry for something that wasn’t pie. She crossed the kitchen like she’d crossed the stage at her graduation, and Jack was the thing on the other side that she wanted.

“And I really, really like your apron.” She stood in front of him with her thigh pressed tight between his legs and punctuated each ‘really’ with a kiss. Moving that quickly from pie-making to foreplay sent his brain into a tailspin. 

“Thanks,” he said. He was still holding an oven mit. He looked at it like he’d forgotten what it was for and tossed it onto the floor. He didn’t think he’d be needing it any time soon. 

Sam spent the night at her own house because she wanted to get up early and help with the cooking. 

Jack spent the night staring at the empty spot in his bed.

He spent the morning picking through his clothes. Sam hadn’t given him much guidance, and he wasn’t sure what he should wear. He started off in khakis because they straddled the line between dressy and casual pretty well but changed his mind at the last minute, deciding to go with the jeans that Sam liked. The ones she said made his ass look good. She touched him a lot when he wore those jeans. 

He waited until ten before heading over to her house. Sam wanted him to be there early, probably to share in her misery; Jack wanted to get there five minutes before the turkey was served. Ten seemed like a good compromise. 

It took him more time to get from his truck to her front door than it took him to pick out pants. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Holding on to the pies was the only thing keeping his hand out of his hair while he waited. Jacob answered the door, and for a moment, Jack thought he looked surprised, like maybe Sam hadn’t told them he was coming over. 

“Jacob.”

“Jack.”

“I brought pies.” He held them up as a peace offering, hoping to get off to a better start than they had the last time. If he hadn’t been gone for the entire summer, they might have been past this stage by now. 

Jacob glanced at the pies but didn’t take them. He still looked perplexed by Jack’s presence when he stepped to the side and opened the door. “Come on in, Jack. Sam is in the kitchen. Helping.” Jacob’s tone made it clear that Sam was in fact, not helping.

Jack followed him to the kitchen where he was accosted by Sam’s mother.

“Jack,” she exclaimed. “You made it.”

“I really don’t live that far away,” he said, even though he had the feeling that his proximity wasn’t what she was talking about.

“Nice pants,” said Sam. She was sitting at the island with a glass of wine and a book. Helping, he supposed. She flipped the book over and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you comb your hair?”

Jack ignored her. Sam kept staring at his head like she was trying to figure out what kind of magic he’d summoned to keep it in check. Jack hoped she wouldn’t recognize the hair gunk he’d stolen from her stash of bathroom supplies because he’d never hear the end of that.

Elizabeth took the pies and set them on the counter. Jack envied whatever organizational skills she possessed that allowed her to prepare a large meal and still have an empty spot on her counter. It was something he’d never mastered. 

Jack didn’t have time to get settled before the front door opened again. Mark and his family came bustling into the house like a tiny parade. Emily ran around until she found Jacob and launched herself at him. 

“Grandpa!”

“Hey, Peanut.” Jacob scooped her up and spun her around. Emily wrapped her arms tight around Jacob’s neck and gave him a hug. Jack reassessed his image of Jacob. Anyone that loved by a kid couldn’t be all that bad. Kids and dogs were the best judges of character.

Mark walked by the kitchen with a portable crib but stopped when he saw Jack. He looked at Sam like she’d said one of the many confusing things she tended to say. Sam rolled her eyes at Mark, and Jack felt like he’d missed something important. Some special sibling communication.

“Hey,” said Mark. “Jack, right?”

Jack nodded and shook Mark’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“This is Denise,” he said when his wife pulled up beside him with a kid in one hand and a diaper bag in the other. 

“Hi,” she said. She let the bag fall off her shoulder, and it landed with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. 

Sam stole the baby from Denise and held him up in the air. “And this is Jojo.”

“No, Sam. Do not start with that. His name is Joseph.”

“Come on, Mark. Joseph makes him sound like he’s forty.” She stood Joseph on the floor and he held on to her hands with his tiny death grip. He looked like he was still in the ‘holy shit, I can’t believe I’m walking’ stage. Transitioning from babyhood to toddlerhood was a lot of work. 

Joseph looked up at Jack with his slightly drooly smile. Jack waved at him, and he laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Toddlers were so easy to entertain. Sara had always been amused by the weird shit Jack had come up with to keep Charlie happy and distracted when he was that small. He’d once spent the better part of an hour sticking playing cards between Charlie’s toes just so Charlie could pull them out and drop them on the floor.

“Looks like you have a new best friend.” Sam picked him up again and sat him on her hip. “Jojo, this is Jack. Can you say Jack?”

“Ack.”

“Close enough.”

Joseph held his chubby little arms out and stared at Jack with his wide, brown eyes. “Ack!” he demanded. 

“Here you go,” said Sam. “He likes to be taken on house tours.”

Jack had no idea what that meant, but Sam shoved the flailing baby at him anyway. Joseph pointed toward the living room and said words that made no sense. Jack’s brain had lost the ability to translate toddler. He walked wherever Joseph’s demanding little hands pointed until they found Emily. Jack sat Joseph on the floor with his sister and a large hoard of wooden blocks. 

He was back in the kitchen with Sam and Elizabeth when Jacob poked his head in. “Hey, Jack. We’re going to put the game on. Vikings and Lions. Should be a good one.”

“Okay,” said Jack.

Jacob’s head disappeared, and Jack stayed put. Sitting around watching sports was something he could do by himself. Hanging out with Sam was much more appealing. Even if they were just watching her mom peel potatoes. Sam claimed to be in charge of the turkey, but Jack hadn’t seen her do anything with it.

“You’re not going to go bond with the menfolk?” asked Sam.

“I prefer to do my bonding with womenfolk,” he said close to her ear.

“I heard that,” said Elizabeth. 

“You can’t whisper around my mom.”

Clearly. Jack tried not to be too embarrassed, because they were all adults. “Maybe I will go watch football.”

Sam laughed and finished her wine. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay in here all by myself and cry.” 

“Wow, mom.”

Elizabeth set a plate of appetizers on the island. “Here,” she said. “I’m not above bribing you to stay.”

It was a good bribe, and they chatted over bacon-wrapped water chestnuts until Joseph came toddling in. He stopped in the middle of the room to rub his eyes. Jack figured he was about two minutes away from passing out. Joseph squealed when he spotted Jack and walked over to grab his leg. “Ack!” 

“He really likes you,” said Elizabeth.

“Well, I am pretty likeable.”

Sam bumped his knee under the counter and leaned into him. “That you are, Ack.”

“Ack!” Joseph repeated. Jack picked him up and paced around the kitchen with him until he fell asleep. It was something he had a lot of practice with. Charlie had always preferred to fall asleep on Jack when he was a baby, which was nice except for when he was sick. Then he’d thrown up on Jack too.

Jack was back at the counter with the baby drooling on his shoulder when Mark came in to pick at the appetizers. “Wow,” he said. “I can’t believe you got him to go to sleep. He usually just screams until he passes out.”

“I guess I’m just not that exciting.”

“Come on,” said Mark. “I have the crib set up in the guest room.”

Jack followed him down the hall to the bedroom. It was dark and quiet. A perfect napping room. Joseph fussed for a minute when he put him down, and Jack patted his back until he settled again.

Mark looked at him from the other side of the crib like he’d just performed the world’s best magic trick. “It’s so weird that you’re here.” 

“Yeah. Why is that?” Jack asked. “I was starting to think Sam didn’t tell anyone she invited me.”

Mark laughed on his way out the door and shook his head. “It’s just that Sam’s never brought anyone home before. Like, ever.”

**********

Jack spent two minutes in the living room pretending to be interested in football before sneaking back to the kitchen to find Sam. She was in the middle of a conversation with Denise, so he stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish. Sam was facing him, and he smiled at her. 

“I can’t believe he made pie,” Denise was saying. “Where did you find this guy?”

Sam looked at him with that expression that made him feel like he was doing something right. The one that made him want to be a better person. “On a baseball field,” she said. 

Jack thought about that day a lot. About how stupid it had been to let her walk away that first time. 

“He’s cute,” said Denise. “And the way he looks at you. It’s like watching porn. I think I’d pay someone to look at me like that.”

Sam bit her lip and stared at Jack. He waggled his eyebrows at her because it always made her smile even though he was sure it just made him look stupid. Maybe that was the reason she smiled.

“Oh my god, Sam,” said Denise. “Is he standing behind me?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Jack took that as his cue to step back from the kitchen. He hid out in the bathroom for a few minutes before going back to the kitchen and pretending he hadn’t just been there. Denise had moved on to the football zone, and Sam was pouring more wine.

“You’re not supposed to listen to us when we talk about you,” she said.

“You’re not supposed to be talking about me.” They were alone for the first time since he’d gotten there. Jack didn’t let their window of privacy go to waste. He pulled her close and kissed her soundly before sitting on a stool. Sam stood next to him with her arm over his shoulder and her hand on the back of his neck. 

“Of course we’re supposed to be talking about you.” Her hand slid to the top of his head, and her fingers were hard at work undoing his hair flattening efforts.

“Stop. I worked really hard on that.”

“Trust me,” she said. “This is better.” 

It took her another minute to get his hair exactly how she wanted it. She adjusted his bangs one more time and kissed his forehead. “Perfect,” she said. She always made him feel more attractive than he probably was. 

“Thanks.”

“I think Denise likes you. Maybe you could gaze at her occasionally.”

“Maybe I only want to gaze at you.” It wasn’t a lie. He really did like to just watch her no matter what she was doing. He put enough effort into his gaze to make her cheeks flush.

“Christ, Jack. She’s right. It is like porn.” She stepped away from him like it was a lot of work. “I need more wine.”

Jack went in the living room to watch the Vikings lose because if he didn’t put some distance between himself and Sam, things were going to get weird. Sam came out a few minutes later to sit on the arm of his chair, and Jack wondered if she’d missed him so soon. 

********

Being surrounded by Sam’s family and a table full of food made Jack realize how lonely his last few Thanksgivings had been. It hadn’t bothered him to be alone —being alone was something he was good at— but it was nice being with Sam and her family. 

They made it through most of dinner before Mark and Sam started telling embarrassing stories from their childhood. He’d expected it sooner.

“Hey, Sam. Have you told Jack about the time you blew up the kitchen?” 

“I didn’t blow up the kitchen.” Sam threw a dinner roll at Mark’s head. It bounced onto his plate. He picked it up like she’d passed it to him nicely and took a bite out of it.

“Oh, honey. Yes, you did,” said Elizabeth. She caught Jack’s eye and made a little explosion motion with her hands. 

“Sam blew up the kitchen?” Jacob looked at his family like he’d never seen them before. His fork was hovering above his plate, and his eyebrows were hovering high on his forehead. “Where the hell was I?” 

“I don’t remember,” said Elizabeth. “Something about Afghanistan? I think she was eleven.”

Jack took a minute to do the math on that. He’d been part of several covert missions at that time, mostly assisting the mujahideen in Afghanistan. What a fucking mess that turned out to be. Maybe he had more in common with Jacob than either of them wanted to admit. 

“Mark peed on the dog,” Sam announced.

“That’s disgusting, Mark,” said Denise. 

“I wasn’t trying to pee on the dog.” He shook his head at Sam. “And you promised never to mention that.”

“I guess I lied.” Sam stuck her tongue out at Mark then turned to Jack and said, “It was a small explosion. It didn’t even knock down any walls.” 

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Because that’s where the line needs to be drawn. At the walls.”

“Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”

He wandered into the living room after dinner because Sam and Mark wouldn’t let him help with the dishes. Cleaning up was their job and they took it seriously. There was another football game on, different teams playing someplace warmer. He sat in the big, plushy side chair again. It was quickly becoming his favorite. He had his own comfortable chair at home, but it didn’t have as many years of being broken in under its belt. 

“You ever play ball, Jack?” 

“No,” said Jack.

“I played at the Academy my first year.”

“Jack plays hockey,” said Sam from the space behind him. He tipped his head back so he could see her. Mark walked around her and sat on the floor with his kids because the couch was full of his parents and his wife. 

Sam looked around the room before sitting in the chair with him. It wasn’t really big enough for the two of them, and she was mostly in his lap. It made him uncomfortable, and he felt like everyone was watching them. He cleared his throat and looked over at the couch. Everyone _was_ watching them. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she repeated, leaning against his chest like she was planning on staying awhile. “I think I had too much wine.”

“I think maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am. Even when I’m drunk. Which I’m not, by the way.”

“Okay.”

She got quiet and everyone went back to watching the game. Jack still felt like he was on display and didn’t much like it. He did like Sam though, and he reveled in her closeness as much he could with an audience. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, put his face in her hair. He didn’t do any of those things, just allowed himself the small luxury of letting his thumb move back and forth on her back.

“Looks like you got Sam to go down for her nap too, Jack.”

Jack knew she wasn’t actually asleep, because he’d spent a lot of time sleeping with her. He felt her shift and open her eyes.

“Shut up, Mark.” Sam sat up straighter so she could glare at her brother. Jack’s chest felt cold and empty. She tapped her finger against it. “I think it’s time to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Why he was trying to convince her not to come home with him, he didn’t know. He just felt a little like he was stealing her away from her family, hogging her time.

“No. I want you to take me home with you.” He could feel the heat in his cheeks because it wasn’t like she was whispering, and her entire family was sitting in the room. She let her finger drop down lower on his chest. It wasn’t enough for anyone else to notice, but Jack got her point loud and clear.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want.”

He got an actual smile from Jacob when they left, and Jack spent the drive home wondering what he’d done right this time. Maybe it was the pie. Or maybe his relationship with Sam had gone on long enough to convince Jacob that she wasn’t just a passing fancy for Jack. 

**********

“My mom likes you,” she said while they were getting ready for bed.

“And your dad?”

“He doesn’t not like you. He’s just-- my dad.” 

“It’s okay. I only care if you like me.” He climbed into bed and kissed his way from her forehead down to her thigh. 

“I do like you.” Her voice wasn’t entirely steady, and it made his testicles feel tight, like she was speaking a special language that only they understood. She spread her legs wide for him, and Jack took her up on the invitation. “Especially when you do that,” she said.

He liked the way her breathing grew uneven when his tongue moved over her. He liked the way her body responded when he eased his fingers inside of her like he had all the time in the world. He liked the way she touched his head and arched off the bed with his name falling off her lips like a prayer.

She was just an impossibly long list of things he liked. And that was wrong, he thought. She was more than that. A lot more.

“You are so fucking incredible.” He pressed the words into her stomach as he made his way back to his pillow. He kissed her, long and deep, and leaned back to stare at her, trying to process all the feelings racing through his head.

“What?” she said.

“I love you.” He’d fallen in love with her in pieces, he realized. Not a slow climb. Not all at once. Just piece by piece until one day there was nothing left of him that wasn’t madly in love with her.

“Well, shit.” It was an honest response, but not what he was expecting. “This wasn’t part of my plan,” she said.

He believed her. Planning was what she did, and she didn’t fuck around. 

He was worried that it was going to be a problem, but she just slid down the mattress and took him in her mouth, all the way to back of her throat in one smooth, wet motion, and it wasn’t a problem at all.

She curled up tight behind him later, closer than she normally liked to be. He thought maybe she loved him back, but she didn’t say so.


	8. Chapter 8

December was a roller coaster of a month, dragging Jack’s emotions up, down, and around until everything came to a screeching halt on Christmas day.

He enjoyed the slow, steady climb of the first two weeks, his little cart ratcheting up and up with nothing but blue skies in front of him. His early December days were uneventful and Sam’s hours were predictable enough to make him feel like he was just a regular guy, coming home at the end of the day to eat dinner and watch crappy tv shows with the woman he loved. 

It was something he thought he could get used to. 

Maybe he already had.

 

**********

 

Sam walked around a promising noble fir, swinging the tree saw at her side like a kid with a baseball bat. She moved easily in the snow, young and graceful, all her parts holding up their end of the bargain. Jack’s own parts were less eager to cooperate in the damp morning air, and he stretched his leg until she circled back to him. 

She stopped and looked at him like she did sometimes--like he was an enigma, and she wasn’t sure what he was doing in her life. It was a fair thought. Jack wondered the same thing often enough--how their paths had managed to cross when their trajectories were going opposite directions, touching briefly as she rose to ever greater heights.

“Knee?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his leg. Was this where he was in life? Waiting to fall and break a hip? Jack had asked a lot of his body over the years. It was bound to turn on him eventually. 

“Does it bother you that I’m old?” He winced at himself, at the insecurity in his own voice, and wondered if she knew what he was really asking. _Does it bother you that I’m so profoundly unexceptional?_

Sam didn’t hesitate before answering, bright affection in her eyes that made his breath catch in his throat. “No, not at all.” She took a hard look at him, and Jack’s stomach tightened, worried she was reconsidering. “Why?” she asked in a soft, contemplative voice he didn’t often hear from her. “Does it bother you?” 

“Yeah, sometimes.” Her expression was mixed, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to reassure him or laugh at him. “Sometimes I think you should be running around with a younger crowd,” he said. A crowd with their best days still ahead of them. And then, to lighten the mood, “At a club. Possibly wearing body glitter.”

Sam considered this for a moment before looping her free arm around his neck. Jack couldn’t help but slide his arms around her waist and pull her closer, relishing the way she felt against him. “Clubs aren’t really my thing,” she said. “And why do you even know about body glitter?”

“I read about it in a magazine once. National Geographic, I think.”

“National Geographic?”

“Sure,” he said, letting the moment shift toward something more pleasant. He kissed her until her lips were warm and his knee decided to cooperate with the rest of his leg.

The first drop came shortly after the tree went up, sudden and steep. Jack was out of town for most of it. 

 

**********

 

The tree was too big. 

The tree was always too big. He knew, logically, that trees looked smaller outside of his living room. That didn’t stop him from getting one that was too big for the space every year.

They sat on the couch once the tree was safely in its stand--straight and well lit--and admired their handiwork. Jack supposed there would come a day when he’d switch to artificial trees, and another when he’d give up on this strange tradition entirely. For now though, he’d enjoy the smell and the lights while bitching about having to water it every day.

Sam sat beside him, unusually quiet, and idly rubbed her hand over his knee. He wondered if she was thinking about their earlier conversation. Playing it over in her head. Deciding he had a point after all. 

He cleared his throat against the gathering tightness and tapped his foot against hers. “What are you thinking about?”

“What time do you have to leave?” It was a good question, but it felt like a deflection. 

“I need to be on base by five,” he said. He glanced at his watch and wondered where all the time had gone. “I should start packing if I want to get any sleep.” 

“Come on.” Sam took his hand and led him up the stairs. She stopped at the top, leaving him one step behind and looked at him with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

It was only a ten day field exercise, but the way she said it, sad and slightly alarmed, made him want to reassure her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be back in time for your Christmas shindig.” 

She kissed him with an urgency he didn’t understand, a sense of wrongness building as his cart tipped over the edge and started to pick up speed.

 

**********

 

Coming home to an empty house had been Jack’s normal for years, but he still found it unsettling when he walked through his door and Sam wasn’t there. He wandered around for twenty minutes, convinced she was about to walk through the door any moment, before calling her. 

“Hey,” said Sam. “Did you keep everyone from freezing to death?” 

“For the most part. The ones I like anyway.” It was a joke he expected her to laugh at, but it fell flat somewhere in the space between them. 

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.” It felt like small talk with someone whose mind was otherwise occupied. He told himself that she did that sometimes, tried to have a conversation while she was thinking about something important and scientific. 

“I, uh, thought I could stop by. Take you to dinner.” To his house. His bed. Anywhere close enough to touch her. He felt like he’d been gone for months. 

“I’m headed over to Mark’s,” she said. “Denise is picking her parents up at the airport and he needs help wrangling the kids.”

Her words felt scripted, like she’d been practicing. The idea that she was trying to avoid him slithered into his brain and set up camp. 

He was quiet for a moment, waiting to see if she was going to invite him. Kid-wrangling was squarely in Jack’s wheelhouse. It should have been an easy choice for her. An uncomfortable beat of silence was all he got in return. 

“Is everything okay, Sam?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.” 

“Are you sure?” His internal alarm bells pricked their ears, not ringing exactly, but she’d definitely gotten their attention. 

“I’m sure,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He stared at the phone long after hanging up, trying to quiet those alarm bells, but they continued jangling softly like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

 

***********

 

Jack woke up Christmas morning with his legs tangled in the sheets feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He made a cup of coffee he couldn’t finish to go along with a breakfast he wasn’t interested in eating and stared at the paper until both grew cold. It should have been the low point in his day. 

It was barely ten when Sara dropped Charlie off. Jack wasn’t expecting him until at least noon and was still trying to get a handle on his melancholic thoughts when she knocked on his door. 

Charlie flew through the doorway all hopped up on holiday spirit and ran down the stairs to inspect his Christmas loot. He wouldn’t open anything until Jack went down, but he’d shake the piss out of everything while he waited. 

Sara just shook her head and handed him Charlie’s backpack. “He’s been up since five,” she said. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Where’s Sam?” she asked, looking back at his driveway.

Jack ruffled the hair on the back of his head and tried to keep his face neutral. “Uh, she spent the night with her family.” He focused on the spot just in front of Sara’s left foot while he talked, hoping she wouldn’t notice his discomfort. “We’re going over later for dinner.”

Sara watched him closely; Jack couldn’t stop himself from shifting on his feet and jamming his hands into his pockets. “Is everything okay, Jack?” Her tone was soft, something she would use with Charlie. It startled him that she could still summon that kind of empathy for him after-- after everything. 

“Yeah,” he found himself saying. “Everything’s fine.” It was a depressing reenactment of the conversation he’d had with Sam the night before. He was sure Sara knew he was lying. She’d known him too long.

“I like Sam,” was all she said. She’d always been subtle about getting him to talk. A tactic that hadn’t served either of them well in the end. “You’ve been--happy, I guess. More than I’ve seen you in a long time.” 

The pain that rippled across her face made Jack feel like an asshole all over again. God that had been a shitty time. Sara had tried so hard to engage him but he’d just shut her out along with everyone else. 

“It wasn’t your job to fix me, Sara.” God knows she tried for far longer than she should have. He might have dragged her right down with him, but she’d had Charlie to consider and had chosen him over Jack. It was the right choice, the only choice.

“I know,” she said. Jack winced at the unsaid ‘now’ floating between them. “We had a good run, Jack. It’s just-- It’s been nice to see this side of you again.” 

Charlie called up the stairs with an impatient, “Dad!” 

Jack welcomed the interruption, and maybe Sara did too. She gave his arm a squeeze of encouragement or sympathy--he wasn’t sure which. “I should go,” she said. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

 

***********

 

Emily swung the door open before they had a chance to knock. She handed Jack a candy cane and ran off with Charlie at her heels. There was Christmas music playing in the living room, and the house smelled like warm apple pie. Jack took a moment to breathe it all in before heading to the kitchen. 

Sam was sitting at the island with Denise, both of them looking too serious for Christmas. Denise gave him an uneasy smile and he knew, without a doubt, that they’d been talking about him. He stared at Sam, trying to figure out what the hell had happened while he was gone because this wasn’t the homecoming he’d been expecting. 

Denise cleared her throat and made up an excuse to be somewhere else. Jack’s cart took a sharp turn and headed for the looping section of track. He barely noticed Denise as she walked by.

“Sam. What’s going on?”

Sam closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. Jack wondered if maybe all the things he’d imagined her saying weren’t really grievous enough. 

Jacob popped in before she could answer, ruining the moment and condemning Jack to the longest night of his life. “Jack. You’re just in time,” he declared. “Meet me in the spare room.”

It took everything Jack had to keep his tone reasonable. “Sure, Jake. In a minute.”

Jacob looked mildly concerned at the tension in the room, but he left without commenting on it. And maybe that was a good sign, he thought. Whatever was on Sam’s mind wasn’t bad enough for her parents to be aware of it. He clung to that life-preserver of logic for as long as he could.

“Sam-” 

Sam cut him off before he could think of more words. “Go,” she said. “We’ll talk later.” She gave him a hug that felt like goodbye and the most non-reassuring smile he’d ever seen.

 

**********

 

Jacob kept him busy with a set of surprise bunk beds until dinner was ready. Jack was sure Sam would have been the better choice of assistant, but he pitched in as best he could. Sam stuck her head in a few times, bringing them tools they didn’t know they needed yet, and giving Jack uneasy looks that Jacob repeated when she left. 

She spent the rest of the night alternating between being overly close and making excuses to be in a different room like she had to keep reminding herself to keep him at a distance. The emotional whiplash had him wishing he’d just stayed home.

Elizabeth cornered him outside the bathroom while Sam and Mark were loading the dishwasher. Jack was surprised it took that long. “Jack,” she said. “Is there something going on between you and Sam?” 

It wasn’t her usual information-gathering tone. She was genuinely concerned, and Jack found himself answering more honestly than he expected. “I don’t know,” he said. “She’s been...different. Since I got back.” He couldn’t find the words to describe way everything felt upside-down and backwards. 

Elizabeth studied him, serious in the way Sam got when she was trying to figure something complicated out. Jack didn’t like being the object of so much scrutiny. “I’m sure you’ll work it out,” she said. “I’ve never seen Sam make time for another human being the way she does for you.”

It was a reassuring bright spot in an otherwise harrowing evening. 

***********

 

Sam followed him back to his house in her own car when they left. Jack spent the entire drive worrying that it was so she could escape after they got through the conversation that had been hanging over his head all day. 

It felt late when they got back, but Charlie was still full of Christmas energy. He begged Sam to set up the slot car track she’d given him, and Sam was only too happy to oblige. Jack watched them from the couch because she seemed much more at ease with Charlie than she’d been with him all evening. 

His lack of sleep and exhaustive stress caught up with him, and Jack fell asleep before the track was operational.

Sam was sitting on the floor when he woke up, staring at him hard enough that he wondered if that was the reason he woke up. He waited for his brain to kick in and remind him that the last two days had been awful and he still didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

“Where’s Charlie?” 

“I put him to bed.” 

“What’s wrong?” Because he had to know. He had to know right now. 

“I love you,” she said. Jack didn’t miss the beat of dismay that flashed across her face. She looked like she wanted to cry and nothing made sense. Her demeanor and words were confoundingly out of sync. 

He sat up and tried to concentrate, but everything sounded too loud, the furnace kicking on, his heartbeat--wild and optimistic--stuttering in his chest. 

_She loved him._

“I’m guessing that wasn’t part of your plan either,” he said. 

“No.” She got up and paced around the room. “No,” she repeated. “It wasn’t supposed to be like… this. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Jack felt like he was going to be sick, because now it sounded like she was breaking up with him. All his butterflies panicked and died, leaving a cold lump in the pit of his stomach. None of this was happening the right way. 

“I don’t understand.”

Sam ran her hands through her hair. It was a gesture Jack was sure she’d picked up from him. He didn’t like being on the other side of it. 

“I’ll be gone for two years, Jack. Then, god knows what.”

His mind raced through different variations of the next two years while time in his living room slowed to a crawl. None of them were easy, but the nature of his own life would have guaranteed that no matter where hers took her. 

“We’ll make it work.” They have to, because he can’t go back. He can’t not have her. “It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming,” he said. “I’ll visit. My frequent-flyer miles have been piling up. I know people with airplanes.” He threw things at her, hoping something would stick. 

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You can’t ask me not to.”

She went still for a moment before sitting back on the couch, facing him with pained, wet eyes. 

“I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“What happened? With you and Sara.” 

It felt like an abrupt change of subject, but it’s not, he supposed. As far as she knew, his marriage ended because it couldn’t survive his job. His job that took him away so fucking often. He understood why she thought there were parallels there. And this is something they’ve never talked about. Not really. But he needed to make her understand that what happened with him and Sara wasn’t just because of the erratic nature of his job, because of the physical distance it put between them. 

Jack leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to work through the roadblock in his mouth. “Iraq happened,” he said quietly. “I got shot jumping in. And they left. My team left me there.” And he’d watched them go, watched them while the sand soaked up his blood, watched them while his vision narrowed and faded to black. It was the last thing he remembered before waking up in a different kind of hell.

It hurt to talk about. Like the words were sharp and painful, being pulled from his guts against his will. “I was in an Iraqi prison for months.” _Forever._ He’d spent more days than not in those four months wishing he hadn’t survived his injuries. He wasn’t ready to share those details. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“Sara thought I was dead,” he continued. “When I got home, it was hard to do normal.” Not when he first got home. But once the celebratory homecoming vibe had worn off, things had gone downhill fast. 

“Sara tried, but I just--I couldn’t…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jack wiped at his eyes and Sam wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t the same, Sam. It’s not. I’m not that man anymore. We can do this. I promise.” His words, muffled against her neck, sounded desperate even to his own ears. But he can’t lose her. He can’t let her walk away from this. 

Sam let out a shaky breath and stroked the back of his head. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said. Jack felt like someone turned the lights back on in his head, chasing away the darkness that had been gathering in his thoughts.

And it’s not. But it’s going to be better than the alternative. “I know. I don’t care. I love you, Sam.” 

“I love you too.” She said it softly, testing the words. Feeling their weight. “I love you.”

 

**********

 

He was deep inside her ten minutes later. Still and heavy against her chest. She held him there, neither of them moving, trying to hang on to the moment as long as possible. 

They laid awake long after, not talking but not willing to surrender to sleep. 

Jack had come close to dying often enough to recognize the feeling. That feeling of coming back from an edge that had been crumbling under his feet. The vibrant aliveness of it. It’s something he never wanted to feel again about his relationship with Sam. That sense of losing it all.

He walked his fingers over her stomach and picked up her dog tags where they were resting between her breasts. The metal was warm, a testament to the reality of her. 

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes were closed and her chest was flushed. Jack wanted to stay awake forever and stare at her.

“I want you to be here all the time.”

She rolled toward him and kissed his shoulder. “I am here all the time.”

“I want more.” 

She stared at him and he could see the gravity of the moment reflected back in her eyes. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” 

Because how could he not. 

How could he waste a single moment.


	9. Chapter 9

April, 1996 

 

Jack knew something was up the moment Sam walked into the kitchen.

He tried to shake the soapy water off his hands before she got close enough to touch, but Sam was fast and got a back full of wet handprints as a reward. He leaned against the counter, pulling her along while she kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in days instead of the hours it had actually been. 

“Guess what?” she said. He could feel her smiling against his lips and knew exactly what she had to tell him. He’d been waiting for this almost as much as she had. 

He played along anyway because it was her moment, and she deserved to tell him in her own way. “What?” he asked.

Sam tapped a finger on his shoulder and did her best to look annoyed. It was a losing proposition. The pure joy on her face didn’t leave much room for other emotions. “That’s not a guess,” she said. 

“I’m too old for guessing.”

“You think you’re too old for everything.” 

“Not everything,” he said. He kissed his way down her neck, taking his time and making her lose her spot in the conversation. It was possible, he admitted to himself, that a small, selfish part of him didn’t want to hear the words. Everything was about to change, and Jack had grown exceedingly fond of the way things were right now. 

“Jack,” she finally said with a breathless edge to her voice he wasn’t sure he could take credit for. “I made the cut.” 

And there they were. The four words he’d been watching from a distance as they careened toward him in slow motion, waiting for them to crash into his bubble of happiness. 

“Of course you did,” he said. “I’m so proud of you.” And he was. Absolutely. This day had been a long time coming, and it felt like a gift, being able to share it with her. “Have you told your parents?” 

He wondered about their reaction, if their excitement and fear would be in the same proportions as his own. He’d been doing a good job hovering at a fifty-fifty split until the ten-year anniversary of the Challenger accident had rolled around. Now it felt more like eighty-twenty, and that was mostly Sam’s fault.

 _Vehicle disintegration_. That was what she called it. It sounded like something quick and painless as far as horrific accidents went, but then she felt the need to tell him it was likely those astronauts survived the initial incident. 

He wishes she hadn’t because now he thought about that a lot. He thought about how long they might have been conscious after their shuttle broke apart around them. About how much time they had to contemplate their deaths before hitting the water. He knew how perverse time could be, how it slowed down in moments like that. 

“Not yet,” she said, bringing him back to the conversation. “I came straight home.” 

 

**********

 

Her parents kept them out to dinner later than he would have liked. It was almost midnight by the time they got home and into bed. 

He was lying on his back with one hand behind his head and the other playing with the hair around Sam’s ear thinking that this was exactly the sort of thing he’d be missing out on after she’s gone to Johnson. He’d promised her they could make this work, and now he had four months to adjust to the reality of that promise. It didn’t seem like enough time. Not nearly.

“Come to the cabin with me this summer.” It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her. She’d turned the offer down twice already. Jack had started to wonder if he should quit asking, but it felt urgent somehow, carving out some time for the two of them before she left. 

She answered faster and differently than he was expecting. 

“Okay.”

“I thought you were never going to say yes.”

“I wanted to go the first time,” she said. “I just haven’t had time to relax before now.” She seemed sad, and a little surprised by her own words, like she’d never considered the small things that got left behind in her pursuit of the big things. 

Jack submitted his leave paperwork the very next day. 

 

**********

 

Opening the cabin door for the first time was always an emotional experience for Jack. It was where he’d rebuilt himself after his divorce just as sure as he’d rebuilt the roof and the back deck, a kind of therapy he never could have gotten on a couch. 

The space inside was dark—almost gloomy, but in a good way. Full of aged wood and small windows, it felt like a fort, silent and secret, tucked underneath an overgrown hedge. He’d built plenty just like it as a kid. 

Jack turned on all the lights while Sam looked around the main room. He watched her closely while he opened windows to let the air in and the dust out. She touched the rough-hewn walls and the flagstone over the woodstove, taking in the details with a critical eye. 

“Wow,” she said. It was an honest ‘wow’. He’d never known her to level undeserved praise on anyone or anything. “This is great, Jack.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His cabin was important to him in ways that were difficult to explain, and hearing her approval meant more than he thought it would. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. The smell of her hair stood out even more in the dusty air of the cabin. 

It was a combination he instantly fell for. 

They hiked around the property after unpacking, hoping to get a look at the bull elk that had been visiting his pond for the last three seasons. They’d have a better chance of seeing him in the morning, but it was a good excuse to get outside and walk around after two days of sitting in his truck. 

The far side of the pond was one of his favorite spots. The postcard view of the trees framing the cabin and dock across the water was what had sold him on the place—that and its proximity to nothing. 

Sam sat on the grass and settled back on her elbows. She looked like part of the scenery, like she belonged right there and nowhere else. She kicked her shoes off like she was planning on staying awhile, so he sat down next to her. He stared at her for a moment before plucking a wildflower out of the ground and sticking it behind her ear. 

“Thanks,” she said, scrunching her nose and making what Jack decided was his new favorite expression. “Maybe later you can make me a daisy crown.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed. Jack thought maybe later he could do a lot of things. He leaned over to kiss her, and she laid back on the grass, letting him get an early start on some of those things.

They were having coffee on the back deck, an early-morning routine of Jack’s that Sam had fallen right into, when his resident elk showed up. 

He came out of the treeline with his head up, alert and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. The birds were still asleep, and it was quiet enough to hear him breathing, huffing as he smelled the air before wading into the still water.

Jack watched Sam while she watched his elk. The look on her face was something he could stare at forever. The elk—his antlers still rough and shaggy with half-shed velvet, was no competition.

“He’s beautiful,” Sam said. 

“You’re beautiful.” It was a sappy thing to say but he didn’t regret it, and he thought she liked hearing it even though she rolled her eyes at him.

 

**********

 

They spent their last day at the cabin sitting on the dock with fishing poles and beer. 

Sam was wearing sunglasses and shorts and looking utterly relaxed and perfect on his old lounge chair. She’d thrown herself into vacation mode more thoroughly than he expected. It was a side of her he’d never gotten a good look at in the real world, where there was always something else running through her head. 

He thought she’d dozed off, but she turned to him and said, out of the blue, “Why don’t you have a boat?”

Jack reeled his line in and sat his rod on the dock so he could dig another beer out of the cooler. 

“Don’t need one,” he said. “The fish come to me.” 

There were no fish, of course. Never have been. He’d been using the same lime-green, plastic minnow for two years because using live bait just seemed callous. He untangled his weights from the bobber and flipped the bail arm over before casting back into the middle of the pond. 

Sam went back to looking at the water. “Next time I’m bringing a canoe,” she said.

He wondered if there would ever be enough next times to make him feel like he’d had his fill of this. 

It seemed unlikely.

 

**********

 

The drive home was long and uneventful except for the part where Sam almost got them killed on a deserted, two-lane road in middle-of-nowhere, Nebraska. 

The road was straight and flat all the way to the horizon, lined with sturdy farmhouses and battalions of corn. There was a hawk in the distance making lazy circles in an updraft. It dropped down occasionally only to float back up again, effortless and graceful. It was no wonder mankind had worked so hard to emulate flight. 

He almost ran into the ditch when Sam screamed at him.

“Oh my god, Jack. Turn around! Pull over! Stop!” She yelled all these commands at once. He had to put them in the right order to get the truck going back the way they came. There was an agonizing moment where he thought he might have run someone over while he was watching the hawk, but there were no bodies in the road. 

Jack had to follow Sam’s flaily hand to a handwritten sign advertising an estate sale because she was too excited to make any more words. She jumped out of the truck as soon as he pulled into the dusty driveway. Jack took a moment to breathe and put the truck in park before he turned off the engine and followed her. 

His heart was still racing when he caught up with her. The ‘estate sale’ consisted of a bunch of run-down farm equipment, a rusty clawfoot tub, three old milk cans, some cars, and a few motorcycles—all of which had seen better decades. 

Everything looked like garbage, and Jack wondered if the sign was a joke. 

“Jesus Christ, Sam.” 

“I know,” she exclaimed, headed straight for the old motorcycles. “I can’t believe it either.”

Jack was sure they weren’t talking about the same thing.

Sam stopped in front of the motorcycle at the end of the row. Jack was almost jealous of the way she looked at it.

“A 1940 Indian Chief,” she said in a hushed, church voice. The weird jealousy came back when she stroked the rust-pocked gas tank and what was left of the cracked leather seat. “It’s beautiful.” 

Jack didn’t understand what she saw in it—or how she’d spotted it from the road at fifty miles per hour—but the look in her eyes made it clear that it would be going home with them. 

It took some negotiating and a field trip to the local bank before Sam paid an obscene amount of money for it. Jack was glad he owned a truck because he was sure Sam would have pushed the motorcycle all the way to Colorado Springs if they couldn’t haul it back with them.

She glanced back at it every quarter-mile like she couldn’t believe it existed. 

Jack mostly couldn’t believe she paid good money for it.

 

********** 

 

The first chance he had to visit her at Johnson was in late October, the weekend of his birthday, and he couldn’t think of a better gift to himself. 

Aside from the fact that it was his birthday, the timing wasn’t ideal and he had to take a cab from the airport because Sam couldn’t guarantee she’d be available to pick him up. He was buckling his seatbelt when she called to let him know she was home, and was he okay with pizza for dinner? 

Jack was fine with anything or nothing for dinner and told her so. None of the things on his mind were food, and he couldn’t even decide if he was hungry. All his parts were having little independent celebrations, and none of them were keeping his brain updated on their status. 

Traffic was light and they made good time. Jack was standing in front of her building ten minutes sooner than he’d expected. He handed the driver too much money and took the steps to her apartment two at a time. The need to just see her was so overwhelming he felt dizzy with it. 

The music behind her door was loud, and Jack had to ring the doorbell three times before he heard her yell something he couldn’t understand. The music went quiet just before she pulled the door open, impatient and flustered like she was expecting someone else entirely.

“Oh.” Her look of surprise faded into a slow grin that made his insides feel warm, and breathing became more of an effort than it had any right to be. “You are way better than the pizza boy,” she said.

Jack just stood there, staring, unable to think of a single thing that wouldn’t sound like an incoherent mess. It wasn’t the longest they’d gone apart, but it felt like he hadn’t seen her in years. In a lifetime. Right now this tiny apartment he’d never stepped foot in felt more like home than anything ever had.

She grabbed his hand, tugged him impatiently into her apartment, and kissed him with all the pent-up desire he was feeling. 

“Hi,” he said as soon as he had a chance to catch his breath. He looked over her shoulder, searching for something else to focus on. Something to keep himself from backing her against the wall. Her apartment was tiny and chaotic. Her vacuum cleaner was in the middle of the living room with its cord snaked across the carpet. “Cleaning?” It was a completely unnecessary question, but it was the only thing his brain could come up with.

“Yeah,” she said. “I only finished unpacking last week.” 

Jack feigned interest in her unpacking while he stared down at her. She was wearing a black tank top that was tight enough to be distracting, and sweatpants that didn’t quite fit because they were his. He let his hands wander down to where her pants hung low on her hips and traced the edge of her hip bone with his thumb. 

“I like your cleaning outfit,” he said. He slid the tips of his fingers beneath her waistband and thought again about how she’d look pressed against the wall just inside her front door.

Sam looked at him like she knew exactly what he’d been thinking, and the sexy grin came back, knocking all his good intentions away. The way she could turn him on so effortlessly was almost embarrassing. Not that he’d ever complain about it.

“Is this some sort of weird fetish I need to know about?”

Jack looked her over one more time, slowly and deliberately, taking in all the good parts. Yeah, the cleaning outfit was pretty hot. He could make a weird fetish out of it, but it was possible he would have thought the same if she were wearing a potato sack. 

“Maybe,” he told her.

Sam licked her lips, unaware of how thin his self-control was at the moment. He was almost relieved when they were interrupted by the doorbell. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. She kissed him again before answering the door. Jack tried to get himself under some semblance of control while she was throwing money at the pizza boy. 

There was enough beer in Sam’s apartment for two people, but only enough chairs for one. Sam opened two bottles and sat at the counter. Jack stood next to her, close enough to feel her knee against his thigh. 

The pizza looked good, and there was a fair chance it tasted good also. It was just that Jack had no real interest in eating, and none of his senses could be bothered to pay attention to anything that wasn’t Sam. He ate half a slice without tasting it and wondered if it would be rude to just drag her back to her bedroom right the fuck now. 

Sam let out a soft ‘fuck’ and tossed her crust on the counter. “I’m not really interested in this pizza,” she announced. Jack wondered—not for the first time—if she could read his mind. She grabbed his belt loops and pulled him between her knees. 

“What pizza?” he said against her neck. She shifted on her stool so she was pressed tight against him, and Jack thought this was way better for his knees than the wall would have been. 

He backed up so he could fit his hand down the front of her sweatpants. She jumped a little when he first touched her, keeping his fingers just outside of where she wanted them, teasing himself as much as he was teasing her. He traced her outline over her underwear with just enough pressure to make her want more, trying to make her feel a fraction of the tension he had going on.

“Stop it, Jack.” The way she said the words made him wonder why he wasn’t touching her, because he wanted to, maybe more than she did. She sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed the front of his shirt when he moved the thin fabric to the side.

“Jesus,” he whispered against her neck. She was so wet it made him worry he wasn’t going to live up to the high expectations she so clearly had. He’d grossly miscalculated the power dynamics at play. 

Sam pushed down on his hand, finally where she wanted it, and made some of the hottest fucking noises he’d ever heard. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she said.

She wasn’t the only one, but hearing her admit that sparked something primal inside him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anyone more than he wanted her right now, and hoped he never did because it felt like something that might kill him. 

“You’re killing me, Sam.” He pushed against her leg, hoping it would relieve some of the urgency. It didn’t. Not in the least. He didn’t want to come in his pants, he really didn’t, but she wouldn’t stop talking and every word out of her mouth made that more of a possibility.

“I haven’t touched myself all week.” 

_Holy fuck._ Why was she doing this to him? Jack couldn’t say the same and if he could this would have been over five minutes ago. 

“Please stop talking.” He ran his thumb over her lips, hoping to distract them from making more words. He didn’t realize what a tactical error that was until she turned her head and pulled his thumb into her mouth. Jack had to close his eyes.

He could feel her smile before she let his thumb go. He knew she was thinking about saying more; it was radiating out of her. She managed to keep her words to herself, and Jack was grateful. 

They only made it to the bedroom because the apartment was so small. 

She pulled her top off as soon as they walked through the door and tossed it at his feet like a dare. His gaze dropped before slowly returning to her face. She watched him with dark eyes and shuddered like he’d run more than just his eyes down her chest.

He moved her onto the bed and helped her out of the rest of her clothes and had to grab her wrist when she tried to unbutton his pants. “Not yet.” His voice was as rough and unsteady as the rest of him. 

The frustrated look she shot him did less than nothing to help his self-control. He wasn’t trying to tease her this time, but if she so much as looked at him right now it would all be over.

Jack put everything he had into the foreplay part and didn’t even think about taking his pants off until Sam was shaking under his tongue, calling out his name with her hands tight around his head. He managed to get naked and inside of her without letting her touch him and felt like he’d pulled off a small miracle.

Even so, it was over in three minutes if he was being generous—really generous.

Sam wrapped her legs over his thighs, holding him tight. She pushed lightly on his chest and he lifted his head up to look at her. “I love you,” she said, quiet and serious, like she was still amazed by that simple fact.

He told her he loved her back but wasn’t sure he meant it. It felt wholly inadequate. 

He wished he had a stronger word.

 

**********

 

December had her back in Colorado for eight and a half days. Jack had never looked forward to a holiday as much as he did that year. Having to share her with her family was a given. Having to share her with Kawalsky and Ferretti was an unexpected dilemma.

He was in the mess hall on Friday afternoon, moving food around his plate, when Kawalsky popped back into his life.

“Jack! You old sonofabitch.” Kawalsky dropped into the chair across from Jack like they ate together every day. Jack could only stare until his brain caught up with his eyes.

“Kawalsky? What are you doing here?” Jack looked around the room, trying to find a reason for Kawalsky to be in his mess hall. 

“Just got reassigned.” He pulled Jack’s tray to the other side of the table. Jack watched it go, still too surprised to do anything about it. “Ferretti too,” he added around a mouthful of Jack’s fries.

“It’s good to see you,” said Jack, and he meant it. The three of them had been pretty tight in their younger days, but Jack hadn’t seen either of them in years. He sometimes wondered how different Iraq would have been if Kawalsky and Ferretti had been there. He liked to think they wouldn’t have left him so easily.

“Don’t get all soft on me, Jack.” 

“Where’s Lou?” 

“Ah, you know. Looking at an apartment for his wife and kids.” True to form, Kawalsky looked mildly disgusted at the thought of a wife and kids. “We’re meeting up at that shithole place on Cascade later. You’re joining us, and don’t even try to weasel out of it.”

Weasel seemed like too strong a word, but Jack really did have better things to do. Sam’s flight got in at seven, and there was no way he wasn’t going to be the one to pick her up. Letting these two halves of his life interact wasn’t part of his plan for Sam’s visit, but it also wasn’t something he could put off forever. 

“Yeah,” he said, warming up to the idea. Sam had improved every other aspect of his life. Why not this? “Okay. I think I can be there by eight.”

It was closer to nine when he pulled into the parking lot. He picked a spot near the back of the lot next to a mound of dirty snow to reduce the chance of some drunk asshole hitting his truck. There was a time in his life when he’d been that drunk asshole. These days, he used that insight to his advantage.

Neither of them moved to get out when he turned off the engine, highlighting their lack of enthusiasm for the evening. Sara had tolerated Jack’s work friends, but she’d never really warmed up to the loud, crass reality of them. It might be different with Sam, but Jack was prepared for the possibility that she might not like them any more than Sara had.

He picked up Sam’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

She smiled at him, and he considered hightailing it out of the parking lot and taking her home. He could easily catch up with Kawalsky and Ferretti on one of the many days Sam wasn’t in town. She opened her door before he could act on that thought. 

“How bad can they be?” she asked before stepping out of the truck.

It was the last Friday before Christmas and everyone in Colorado Springs was trying to have one final get together before leaving town. Jack held on to Sam’s hand so he wouldn’t lose her while they plowed through clumps of exuberant young people. He finally spotted Kawalsky and Ferretti in a corner booth and tugged Sam’s hand in their direction.

Ferretti stopped in the middle of whatever he was saying when he noticed Jack. Or, more likely, when he noticed Sam. He shot a look across the table to Kawalsky, and it was painfully obvious that neither of them were aware Sam existed. Jack cleared his throat and hoped she wouldn’t take it personally.

Kawalsky decided to jump in and kill the awkward moment in the most embarrassing way possible. “Jack,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting gifts.” He gave Sam a half-hearted leer to make sure they all understood his joke. 

“Funny,” said Jack. “Sam, these are some of the assholes I work with.”

“Hello, assholes,” she said. 

Ferretti laughed, self-aware enough to know that ‘assholes’ was a fitting description. Kawalsky did his best to look scandalized before moving to the other side of the table. He shoved Ferretti into the corner and poured two beers from the half-empty pitcher into what Jack hoped were clean glasses.

“So, Sam.” Kawalsky let her name slide off his tongue like it was something exotic. Jack wanted to smack him. It was an urge that came up often around Kawalsky. “Is this a blind date or something?” Sam was studying Kawalsky with a slightly amused expression. It was a look Jack knew well—one that said she had Kawalsky all figured out.

Sam just said, “Or something,” and leaned forward, looking around in a way that made Jack wonder what the hell she was about to say. “Jack and I meet up for sex every couple of months,” she said. 

Jack almost choked on his beer. Mostly because, right now, that was exactly what they did. 

Kawalsky’s mouth hung open. Jack enjoyed the rare moment of silence for the short time it lasted. “Are you serious?” 

Sam leaned back in her seat and picked up her glass. “No,” she said. “Of course not. Are you always so gullible?”

Kawalsky didn’t have enough grace to look the slightest bit contrite. “Fuck. I hope not.”

Ferretti laughed and threw a peanut into Kawalsky’s beer. “You are, man. You really are.”

Sam’s phone started buzzing while Kawalsky was fishing the peanut out of his glass. “Shit,” she said. “It’s dad. I told him I’d call when I got in.” She stood up and held her hand out. “Give me your keys.” Jack handed them over. She wasn’t going to find a quiet spot inside, and it was too cold to stand around outside. He regretted parking so far away.

“Holy shit,” said Kawalsky as soon as Sam was out of range of his big, offensive mouth. “Why didn’t you tell us you had a hot girlfriend? She looks like a … like a flight attendant.” 

Jack wondered what life was like inside of Kawalsky’s brain that ‘flight attendant’ was the first thing he thought of. “Close,” said Jack. “She’s Air Force. Flies airplanes and everything.” He left out all of the other things she was. Kawalsky always did better with small chunks of information.

“Get the fuck out of here. A pilot? Are you shitting me?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, Jack.” Kawalsky washed this new information down with his beer. “And she’s fucking hot.”

“Yeah, she is,” chimed in Feretti, always the quieter part of this not-so-dynamic duo. 

Jack shifted in his seat. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with them. He just didn’t like how their talk made it feel cheap somehow. Like that was all she was. 

“And ‘dad’?” asked Kawalsky. “Is he Air Force too?”

Jack shook his head because he knew where this was going. He’d have had the same reaction Kawalsky was about to have when the three of them were running around together. “Two-star,” he said.

Kawalsky threw his hands up like it was the end of the world. “Jesus, Jack. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

 _Something amazing_ was the first thing that came to mind. Something unexpected and well beyond anything he thought he’d have at this point in his life. He kept all that to himself, tucked away deep where all of his other Sam-related feelings lived.

The evening managed to be fun despite their company. Sam was easygoing and smart enough to stay ahead of any dumb jokes Kawalsky tried to make. Ferretti was a lot more settled than Jack remembered. LIke he’d grown up in the years since their last assignment together. Kawalsky was still the same and probably a lost cause at this point. 

Ferretti made an effort to ask Sam normal questions. He was a lot better at small talk than Kawalsky. “Jack says you’re a pilot.”

“I’m actually in training at Johnson right now.”

“Johnson?” Kawaslsky blurted into the conversation. “Space Center, Johnson?”

“That’s the one. Astronaut Candidate training program,” she added in case they thought she was there for some less cool reason.

“Get the fuck outta here!” Kawalsky smacked his hand on the table. “You two are so full of shit.”

Sam pulled her ID badge out of her jacket and casually slid it over to him. 

“Damn,” said Kawalsky after a careful inspection. “How about you get rid of this guy and we run off and elope?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m pretty fond of this guy.”

“I don’t know why.”

“I should hope not.” Her arched eyebrow did a fine job of projecting all the sexual innuendo she needed into that statement.

By eleven, Jack had had his fill of socializing and was ready to take Sam home. If her hand on his thigh was any indication, she felt the same. He leaned over to whisper in her ear while Kawalsky and Ferretti argued about whose turn it was to buy the next round. “You have to stop that,” he said.

“Stop what?” She sounded innocent enough but her hand betrayed her and moved to a spot that wasn’t even in the same zip code as his leg. He thought he was doing a good job not reacting but Kawalsky was looking at him like he wasn’t.

Jack cleared his throat and counted the knots in the table. 

Sam, apparently having had enough, put her glass down and looked him straight in the face. “We need to go,” she said. 

“Yeah,” said Ferretti. “I should go too. I told the wife I’d be home before tomorrow.”

“Man, you guys are worthless,” said Kawalsky. “I need new friends.”

Ferretti leaned over and kissed Kawalsky on the cheek. “I love you too, Chuck.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Kawalsky was laughing as he wiped his face and climbed out of the booth. “And don’t ever fucking call me Chuck again.” 

The air had warmed up enough for some light flurries so their trek back through the parking lot was unexpectedly scenic. Sam walked next to him with her hand in his back pocket. It made him feel twenty years younger. “That was fun,” she said.

“You don’t have to lie.” 

“It’s good for you to have friends, Jack.” 

“Don’t get carried away. They’re acquaintances. At best.” She pinned him against the passenger door before he could open it and kissed him until he forgot all about his asshole coworkers. They should have left an hour ago. “Is this why we needed to get out of there?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I want to get home and see my bike.”

 

*********** 

 

He surprised her over spring break with a visit from Charlie. He’d told Sara that Sam wouldn’t mind but started having second thoughts while he stood back to let Charlie ring her doorbell. His concerns were unfounded; Sam was just as excited to see Charlie as he was to see her.

“Sam!” Charlie ran straight in for a hug as soon as Sam opened the door. Jack had to wait in line for his own.

“Hey!” She kissed the top of Charlie’s head and put her hands on his shoulders, sizing him up. “You are getting so tall.”

Charlie grinned up at her. He’d been hearing that a lot lately. “Mom says I need to stop.”

“Good luck with that,” she said, and it was finally Jack’s turn for a hug.

“How about me?” Jack asked. “Am I getting tall?”

Sam took them on base the next day and gave them the grand tour. The Space Center deserved more attention than Jack afforded it; he was just too enamored with Sam’s excited commentary about every single thing in the place. He thought he could probably listen to her talk forever even though he didn’t understand most of what she was saying. She’d gotten used to communicating with her academic peers and kept forgetting to dumb things down for him and Charlie.

They were on their way to the Neutral Buoyancy Lab when they ran into one of Sam’s classmates. He was tall and impressive, walking around in his flight suit like a living PR prop. Sam introduced him as Gus and spent a few minutes rattling off his accomplishments and looking at him like he’d walked right across the surface of the training pool. 

Jack felt a little like he needed to defend his territory. He hated the feeling and did his best to summon up every last ounce of charm he owned because he did not want to look like a jealous asshole. He offered Gus his hand and was about to introduce himself when Gus threw him off by knowing exactly who he was.

“Jack,” he said in his impressive, old-time radio voice. “It’s good to finally meet you.” He shook Jack’s hand and smiled his perfect, PR smile. “Sam talks about you so much, I feel like I know you.”

Jack wondered if he was just being kind. He couldn’t imagine being that high up on Sam’s list of interesting conversation subjects. Especially here, where she was surrounded by people capable of keeping up with her brain.

“It’s true,” said Sam. “Everyone is tired of hearing about you.”

“I can’t say I blame them,” said Jack. 

Gus laughed, a perfect, low-pitched laugh that sounded like something he practiced. “And you must be Charlie,” he said. “Sam tells me you’re quite the left-fielder.”

“Yes, sir,” said Charlie in his best respectful-kid voice. Sam ruffled his hair and smiled at him like she was as proud of him as Jack was. Sam’s relationship with Charlie was like the icing on the cake of his own relationship with Sam. He felt stupid for ever doubting his decision to bring Charlie to visit her.

They finished their tour in Mission Control, surrounded by screens and history. Charlie sat at one of the stations and stared at the front screens. “It’s just like the movie, dad.” 

Charlie fell asleep early, worn down by one day of Sam’s life. Jack tucked him in on the couch and turned off the lights. 

Sam was camped out on her bed with a laptop. Jack kicked off his shoes and sat next to her against the headboard. There was a movie playing on the small tv she kept on her dresser. It was nothing he recognized. 

He tapped his fingers on her knee and watched her type. “So,” he said, trying not to sound like he’d been dwelling on the topic all day. “Gus is...impressive.” It didn’t sound near as subtle as it had in his head. 

“He is,” agreed Sam. She frowned at her screen and jabbed her finger on the delete key. Jack wasn’t sure she was really paying attention to him. “You know,” she added. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”

It was a joke. He got that, but the thing was, she _is_ into that kind of thing. Jack couldn’t shake the notion that Gus was exactly the kind of person Sam should be interested in. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

She looked over at him finally, and he had to fight the urge to look away. “Are you jealous?”

“I think I am.” As much as he wanted to encourage her to spend time with her own kind of people, he wasn’t prepared for the reality of what that looked like. 

“Don’t be stupid, Jack. He’s married and has like ten kids.” She closed her laptop and sat it on the nightstand so she could sit on his lap. Jack rested his hands on her waist. “Also, the last thing I want in my life is someone just like me.” 

She meant what she was saying. He knew that. It just didn’t make any sense to him. She’s just like herself, and he fucking loved her more than he could ever hope to express. “I don’t get that at all.”

She took a moment before answering him like she wanted to get her words in order. “You keep me grounded,” she said. “I’m not good at regulating myself.” She laughed like that was an understatement, but she looked about as serious as he’d ever seen her. “I need that. I need to slow down, fish off a dock, watch Charlie play baseball. You didn’t know me before... Well, before I knew you.” That didn’t make a lot of sense, but Jack thought he understood what she was getting at. “I come up with some of my best ideas when I’m with you, Jack.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. I should have told you sooner.” They’ve skirted the edge of this subject before, but she’s right, this was something he needed to hear. “I wouldn’t trade you for four of Gus,” she said. She kissed his forehead and started unbuttoning his shirt. Jack watched her fingers move over his chest.

“How about five of Gus?”

She rocked her hips against him, sending all thoughts of Gus or anything else right out of his head. His hands were under her shirt now, warm and rough against her skin. “Hmm,” she said. “Not even ten of him. I do like that you’re jealous, though.”

“Really?” Jack himself did not like the jealousy at all. It made him feel young and stupid. Sam had never given him any reason to doubt her feelings for him.

“A little,” she admitted. “But don’t get carried away.”

 

**********

Charlie left Texas with twice as many things as he arrived with. Sam got him one of every NASA-related thing she could get her hands on—a drawer’s worth of t-shirts, a hat for every day of the week, enough patches to build a jacket, and signed photographs of all her classmates. 

It was more than a little ridiculous, but Charlie loved every single thing.

Jack had to put up extra shelves in Charlie’s bedroom when they got back to Colorado so he could display it all. They added to it over the years—new pictures of Sam taken from space, mission patches and pins, random bits of gear that Charlie proudly announced to anyone that would listen _had actually been to space_. In the center of it all, protected by a glass box, was his pride and joy—Sam’s Snoopy cap from her first EVA mission. She’d even signed it like she knew she was destined to become a household name.

Later, the wall will feel like a shrine, and Jack would spend hours—sometimes days—sitting in front of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feedback is always appreciated.


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